


Good Neighbors

by theunknownfate



Series: Only You [2]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Bats, Established Relationship, Finally Some Smut, Gen, Parasites, Politics, Potionless - Freeform, Romance, butterfly bog
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-26 17:38:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 30,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3859069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theunknownfate/pseuds/theunknownfate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes up the day after <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3272057/chapters/7136405">Only You</a> ends and goes from there. There's feasting and fighting and lots of flying. There is mention of other kingdoms outside the Fairy Fields and Dark Forest. The title is from the old name for fairy folk. There's also something in there about good fences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The feast was going well. It wasn’t every day two kingdoms were united after all. It was mostly just an engagement party, but Marianne would’ve happily gotten married that day and had it over with. She found herself not caring too much about the ceremony itself. Married or not, she was going to be his and he was going to be hers. She had searched herself for any of the deep down worries she had had when she was about to marry Roland (the memory still ached a bit, but mostly from relief that she had caught him before she had actually married him) and hadn’t found anything. 

She wasn’t anxious this time. There weren’t any misgivings about what would be different after the wedding. Bog was already a king so he wasn’t marrying her for a crown. He didn’t have to worry about her marrying for power either. They had both seen each other at their snarling, vicious worst, so there couldn’t be too many surprises there. This was the way it was going to be now, wedding or not. She was happy. Content, even. 

Everyone else seemed to be having a good time as well. The welcome party last night had gone a long way toward breaking the ice, and more people were actually enjoying themselves than pretending to be polite. Brutus had been eating from every table and had to be shooed away from the royal food more than once, which seemed to baffle him. Maybe Bog just ate whatever the rest of the goblins ate. Marianne thought. She grinned a little imagining how the reception in the Dark Forest would go.

Fang was still being menacing off to the side. There were still clusters of fairies whispering in corners. The goblins were still flinched from here and there, but everyone was behaving and then forgetting that they were behaving as they relaxed a little. Most of the goblins had been seated at a middle in front of the royal table, which did leave them surrounded on all sides by fairies and elves, but it also kept them close to their King. 

They felt better with him watching them, and he felt better with them all in one place. Marianne wasn’t going to tease him about being a mother hen (not today anyway) but it was working out and she was able to relax a little too.  There was no sign of Roland, hadn’t been for weeks, if what Sunny said was true. Her Dad was still a little worried around the eyes, but he was talking to everyone and seemed in decent cheer.

Someone dropped a plate, but in the dull roar of everyone’s conversation, it barely registered. Dawn was trying to persuade Bog to eat some candied rose and violet petals. He wasn’t looking too thrilled with the idea and Marianne snagged one to eat in front of him just to show off. He pretended to look disgusted, she laughed, and Dawn left the plate to go find something else for him to try. The laughter and light conversation around them suddenly sputtered out at a horrible, wet, gurgling sound.

 Everyone turned to look and there was Brutus. The big goblin’s body hitched like a choking cat’s. He gagged and gasped and made the sound again, louder and more frantic. The elves and fairies had no idea what to do and were looking at each other, but the other goblins rushed to him. He was able to breathe, but it was hurting him to do so, and his voice was an agonized garble. The goblins were trying to help him, pounding him on the back and offering him water. It wasn’t working.

Brutus clawed at his throat and belly with another miserable cry and collapsed. His whole body was heaving. Elves were practical creatures and were doing their best to get through the goblins and help somehow.  Dawn was there, as frantic as anyone, patting his shoulder and telling him it would be ok while he writhed in pain. She knew it was useless and was already scanning the crowd for Marianne to fix it.

”Out,”the Bog King ordered. ”Of. My WAY.” He had gotten up as soon as Brutus had fallen, because nothing the goblin had ever eaten before had even slowed him down. The other goblins knew that too.

“He’s been poisoned!” the beaky one squeaked in horror. The whole crowd gasped. Brutus burbled, his eyes rolling back. Dawn flung herself at Marianne, hugging her and fighting back tears.

“Who could’ve done this?” she wailed, but Marianne shushed her. Bog had stalked over, scattering the crowd. His eyes flicked over Brutus and then he knelt. In one quick motion, he shoved Brutus’ mouth open with the end of the staff and crammed his whole arm down the throat. That startled everyone quiet for a moment, and then Brutus heaved again. Bog stood there, grim and resigned as Brutus gagged around his arm. When Brutus half rose to lurch forward, he pulled free and let the big goblin throw up all over the floor.

It seemed to help. Brutus could at least breathe easily again. The goblins and elves crowded back around to help him sit up and wipe his face for him. Bog smeared the mess with his foot to get a better look at what it was. It was pretty gross, even Marianne had to admit. Dawn disengaged to go fuss over Brutus, calling him a ‘poor, dear thing’. Marianne flew over to see what Bog was looking at.

There were the remains of all the food Brutus had eaten in the puddle, cakes and pastries, mushrooms and honeycomb, roasted acorns and slices of the fish. Just the amount of it would’ve explained why Brutus had been sick, but there was a dark lump of something in it that hadn’t been on any of the plates. It clunked when Bog nudged it and he pulled his foot back from it with a hiss. He checked his foot and Marianne looked too, because if vomity toes weren’t the worst of it, something was very wrong.

“Burns,” he said softly. Whatever the lump was it had left a pale little mark on his skin. He looked back at the lump as his eyes widened. He knew what it was and looked so sincerely shocked that Marianne looked between him and it quickly to try to understand.

“Bog?” Marianne asked. “What is that? Bog?” His face fell back into familiar lines of fury, and then kept falling.  Every plate of his armor shifted and popped, as if it couldn’t contain whatever rage was swelling in him. He slowly straightened up, growing taller as all his angles pulled tight. His wings had flown wide and were vibrating like silent rattlesnake buttons. The goblins were all quiet, watching him. They had seen him lose his temper before, but this cold, deadly ferocity was a whole different beast.

He turned to face the assembled fairies and elves. Even Marianne was startled at the change in him. It sent a prickle down her spine and into her stomach. It seemed strange that his eyes were still blue. The level of rage clearly exploding behind them should’ve turned them red.  He was so angry that he should’ve sprouted spikes or breathed fire. As it was, his hand came up in a clawing gesture and they could all see him have to force his gritted teeth apart to get a word out.

 **“Iron,”** he grated, then roared out. **“IRON!”** His flared wings buzzed, lifting him off the floor to glare down at them. None of them knew what that was, but they all looked at the lump again. It just looked like a piece of rock.

“It can’t be!” gasped the Fairy King. The Bog King’s burning gaze shot to him. Everyone else’s did too.

“Dad?” Marianne asked.

“We keep it locked up!” the Fairy King said. “It’s dangerous! None of us can even touch it! _None_ of us,” he repeated, meeting Bog’s livid eyes.

 **”SOMEONE,”** Bog was still having trouble turning his snarls into words. He was holding back. Marianne could tell, and she loved him for it all the more, knowing what it cost him to not fly completely off the murderous handle. He was shaking with the need to bash heads in until the attack on his folk had been answered tenfold. She could feel the same tremor in her own fists. 

**”CLEARLY.”** Those two syllables made his face contort. **”CAN!”**


	2. Chapter 2

The Fairy King was trying to explain. He called for everyone to sit back down. He didn’t try to call a secret council. He wanted everyone to hear this.

“It comes from the sky,” he said out loud. “Very rarely. Like falling stars. It’s always taken to the kings of wherever it falls. We keep it buried deep because it is so dangerous. AND,” he added, locking eyes with Bog again. “Because if it could ever be used against us, it could be devastating.”

Bog’s eyes narrowed to slits and his jaw worked angrily, but he didn’t argue. His breathing was still harsh and fast.

“So you’re saying, there’s more of this stuff?” Marianne asked, waving a hand at the piece of iron still sitting in the puddle on the floor. Bog had driven back anyone curious enough to come closer to it with a swing of the staff. 

“We have a ball of it,” the Fairy King said. “My mother told me that it was from her grandfather’s time. That it fell out of the sky one day and dug itself into the ground. Everyone that went near it sickened or died, so they built around it and over it and covered it up.” He gave Marianne a sad little smile. 

“It’s tradition to show it to the first born before their coronation,” he said.

“Dad,” she said again. This was no time to get misty-eyed. “Where is it?”

This time he hesitated. The crowd shifted a little nervously. The stuff was hidden for a reason. Even the most curious of them wouldn’t want any one else to find it. Fairies looked at elves who looked at goblins, who were all waiting for Bog’s lead. 

“It was in the fish with the mustard and dill,” called Stuff, who was the closest. She pointed at the pile of food still clinging to the iron. She glanced from Bog to Marianne. “That was at your table. It was meant for one of you.” There were plenty of gasps at that, but Dawn’s was the loudest. The Fairy King’s eyebrows came crashing down. 

“Check the kitchens,” he said. No one could remember his voice being so cold and angry. “Not you,” he said as Sunny started to go. “Stay with Dawn.” He squared his shoulders. “Neither fairies, goblins, or elves are able to touch iron without being burned or poisoned by it. Someone else has to have gotten it here and put it in the food. Come with me.”

He put a few people in charge and led the way out of the castle with just Bog and Marianne. Marianne was ready for the argument that this was for kings only and was counting on Bog taking her side, but her father seemed past any such worries. He took them to one of the more secluded spots in the Fields, where the ground abruptly rolled upward.

The fairy mound was really more of a hill. It had a scattering of old structures that long since fallen to ruin around the bottom of it.The Fairy King led the way toward the top, flying slowly and with effort. Bog was still in livid silence, but Marianne took his hand and felt his fingers squeeze hers. As murderously angry as he was to have any of his kind threatened, the thought that it might have been Marianne who ate it shut him down. 

He couldn’t speak. There wasn’t a word for that kind of horror, even in the Dark Forest, and if there was, he would never say it for fear of it coming true, and there was the thing. He wasn’t used to such a bone-deep, icy fear. Not like this. Not without any hope of ever being all right again. He couldn’t lose Marianne. He wouldn’t. Not even if it meant forcefeeding iron to every creature with wings between here and the- 

She squeezed his fingers back, dragging him out of his violent plans. She was as worried as he was, but she managed a smile, then gave him a playful elbow to the ribs.

“So you have some of this stuff too?” she asked. He inhaled hard through his nose and released it in a sigh. He had to nod, still not trusting his voice. “So it’s some big kingly secret?”

He shook his head this time. She waited for a real answer as they went. He was aware of the Fairy King listening too. He wasn’t sure his jaw muscles would ever relax again, so he forced the words out through his teeth anyway.

“Old days,” he gritted. “Used it for taxes and tributes. Made them pay us with it.“ He gave himself a little shake and another bracing breath. “The more we had meant the less our enemies did, right? And my grandfather once threatened my father with a crown of it nailed to his head if he wanted to be king so badly.”

“That’s not even funny,” the Fairy King gasped. The Bog King looked at him, sharply.

“It wasn’t a joke,” he said. After that, there were no more attempts at conversation until they got to a slab of stone on the very top of the hill. 

“They used to tell us this place was haunted when we were little,” Marianne told Bog. “That if you danced up here on the full moon, faceless dancers would appear around you, and take you away, and you would be an extra dancer appearing the next month, and even if your family got you back, you wouldn’t have a face.”

“That was what was told to the children,” the Fairy King said. “The adults were just told it was bad luck. They’re easier to scare.” 

“I don’t like it,” Bog said, looking around. “If it isn’t your iron that was used, you could be leading them straight to it. Easy to trap us down there. With all three of us gone-“

“We have to be sure,” Marianne said. She hadn’t let go of his hand and gave it another squeeze. “And all three of us aren’t going anywhere.”

There was a secret lever somewhere near the slab. They didn’t see exactly what he did, but the slab lifted and there were stairs leading down into the dark. The Fairy King had a sundrop. Catching a piece of sunlight in a dewdrop was serious fairy magic, so he carried it in a glass bottle. He looked a little regretful to use it. Marianne wondered if it had been intended to be the one that led her down when she was supposed to take the throne. Nothing about her had been exactly to plan, though. He should be used to that. 

The Fairy King went in first, holding the light. Marianne followed, leading Bog in behind her. He scanned the hill and the sky above for any threat, and grumbled as he ducked into the passage way. The slab lowered back into place, cutting off the light. Even Marianne gulped a little. 

It was a long way down. The tunnel was too narrow to fly in. Bog had to hunch nearly in half, but he didn’t complain. Every level they passed through was undisturbed. All the locks were closed. There were no tracks or fingerprints in the dust. Dire warnings had been scrawled along the walls and stairs in several different languages. 

It felt like hours they spent, creeping along carefully in the dark. They didn’t speak much. The weak light just made the surrounding darkness that much darker. Marianne had never felt such stillness either. The air didn’t move. It was too heavy. Even when her father’s wings flicked as he took a corner, not a breath of it reached her. They went steadily downward.

The deeper they went, the closer they got to the hidden iron. Marianne wondered if the chill she felt was from it. Could it poison the air around itself? No, she reminded herself. If every heir was shown this, then it should be all right. The last time anyone should have been here would have been when her grandmother stepped down and passed the crown to her son. 

Finally, at the last door, the Fairy King checked all the locks. They were as dusty and untouched as the rest. 

“I don’t think anyone’s been here,” he said. “But one more…” He opened the locks and they all had to help push the last heavy door open. Inside was mostly dirt, but also a large black ball, bigger and wider than any of them. It was half buried in the ground, ridges of earth pushed up behind it. It looked like it had hit with tremendous force untold ages ago.

They circled it carefully. There was enough room to fly now, but none of them wanted to get too close. The builders hadn’t either. They had given the deadly thing wide berth as they sealed it in. The exposed edge of the ball was rough, but the circle was complete. There weren’t any missing pieces. The earth around it hadn’t been disturbed since the fairies had begun to build around it. 

“Wherever it came from,” the Fairy King said. “It wasn’t here.” He was relieved and just a touch defiant. Bog nodded, not noticing. He was already turning back they way they had come. 

“Still leaves mine,” he said over his shoulder, and all three of them tried to hurry back to daylight.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a furor in the castle when they got back. Stuff and Thang ran out to meet Bog. Thang was talking fast and spitting everywhere. None of what he said was making much sense. Already on edge, Bog was building up to either bellow at him or take a swing. Stuff intervened, putting Thang in a headlock and clamping his mouth shut so she could tell Bog that there was word from the Dark Forest. One word to be exact, scratched into the shell of a beetle. 

The beetle was waiting for them just inside. It was a root borer with a shiny black back and jagged red antennae. It was nocturnal and liked to be underground, so the trip through the afternoon sunshine in the Light Fields had taken a lot out of it. When it saw Bog coming, it turned slightly to show the word on its shell. 

The word COUP was scrawled messily on the beetle. Marianne was distantly surprised that it was spelled right after the ‘lofe’note. It looked like it had been scratched on with a fingernail. Bog looked at it for a long, icy moment then turned with a snarl. He knew his mother’s handwriting and the thought that he had been sleeping on rose petals while she was fighting off an insurrection had him bristling with fury all over again. Was she even alive? Had she been imprisoned before or after she sent the message? She had lost her battle, or the iron would never have made it to the fairy kitchens.

Marianne was already asking about that. He could hear her over the building roar in his brain. The elves who had cooked the fish were all there waiting to be questioned. It probably meant they had nothing to hide, but his fingers itched to grab and shake them. 

“-never cooked a fish before, but, but the bugs helped us,” the head chef was saying. “They said they had helped in the Dark Forest kitchens-“

“What bugs?” Marianne snapped before Bog could. “The only bugs that came with us were the dragonflies.” 

Us. She had said it again. Bog was able to take a breath and look away from his mother’s message. Marianne was glaring down at the elf who was doing her best to describe the insects that had ‘helped’ make the fish. Marianne’s eyes were alight and her body language was all contained outrage. Even if it wasn’t directed at them personally, the elves were sputtering and frantic to tell her what she wanted to know. 

“Where are they now?” she asked, but of course no one knew. The bugs had made themselves scarce as soon as the food was served. Had they headed back to the Dark Forest or stayed to see if their assassination attempt had succeeded? Were they still here, waiting for a second chance?

“It doesn’t matter,” Bog said out loud. “They can’t hide from me forever.” His wings flared, flashing iridescent for a moment. “There won’t be anywhere in either kingdom that will keep them safe from me!”

He was airborne for the last three words. The goblins were with him. It wasn’t exactly a cheer, more like a growl of agreement. They didn’t have any weapons, but a few of them had held on to their utensils from the feast. 

“Wait!” Marianne grabbed his arm as he rose, but didn’t try to hold him down. She flew up with him. “Wait. This could still be a trap. Bog! If the iron came from the Dark Forest and something is happening there, then it could be all about taking the throne from you.”

“What else?” he sneered, all venom. It wasn’t aimed at her and she probably knew that, but she didn’t let go.

“We can’t leave Brutus,” she said. “Where is he?”

That stopped him. He scanned the room for his guard. The mess had been cleaned up and a silver server lid had been placed over the iron. 

“He’s in the solarium,” Dawn said. “He must’ve swallowed the thing whole because there aren’t burns in his mouth or throat, but his stomach still hurts. We’ve got him laying down and drinking cold anise tea to sooth it.” 

She looked sincere and concerned enough to convince anyone. Bog had a moment’s indecision about whether to leave Brutus with a small guard or not and that was when Sunny popped up.

“I’ll go scout it for you,” he said. Everyone looked at him like he was insane and he huffed. “Didn’t I get there all by myself and back once before?”

“Maybe not the best time to remind him of that,” Dawn said out of the corner of her mouth as Bog grimaced.

“I’ll go,” Sunny said, plowing on ahead. “I’ll have a look around and be back before morning. If it is a trap, they won’t be looking for me. And if everything’s fine, I won’t be in any danger anyway.”

“That could work,” the Fairy King said, cautiously. 

“Or not!” Dawn said, clutching Sunny’s hands. “Whoever did this means to hurt people!”

“Hey,” Sunny said, touching noses with her. “You can trust me. Both of you,” he added to Bog, still glowering down. “I’ll be there and back in no time.”


	4. Chapter 4

Watching the elf scamper off to the Dark Forest and remaining behind may have been the hardest thing Bog ever had to do. He huffed and harumphed and tried to remember breathing exercises. Around him, things were being done. The guard was doubled at all stations. A whole team of guards was sent to the kitchens to check for any other signs of treachery. Other groups were sent out to look for the mysterious bugs.

It was all being handled without him, which was probably for the best. He didn’t know what he would hit if anyone pressed him. Marianne was every bit as frantic as he was and seeing that actually helped. She was pacing and wringing her hands and flaring up angry in between distressed thinking out loud. There wasn’t any need for him to do the same with her doing it so well. It freed him up to go over all the possible scenarios for treachery in the Dark Forest. 

There were a lot of them, and some of them were horrific. Dawn was taking it in turns to fret over Sunny and then assure Bog and Marianne that he would be back in no time. She offered them food and placations in between. Time passed slowly as the questions and worries piled up.

“Augh!” Marianne finally exploded. Bog looked at her. “We could just go!” she said, one hand on her sword. “We could just… GO!” She gestured desperately at the window, toward the trees. His wings lifted almost involuntarily at the idea. To charge in and remove whatever threat was there. To stop thinking and not knowing and crack skulls and _find out_ \- but then she sagged again.

“But Sunny might already be on the way back,” she moaned. “We might miss him on the way and not find out something important…”

Bog made his wings lie down again and took another deep breath. She was right. Both times. He gave himself a little shake, unclenched his jaw for what felt like the fifteenth time, and adjusted his grip on the staff. His knuckles had passed white an hour ago. It would be just his luck for them to lock up and not be able to let go.

Marianne growled out a sound of frustration and misery and came over to take his arm. He blinked at her and she towed him along with her as she paced, resting her head on his arm. She was being driven as crazy as he was, he realized. She hated it every bit as much. It shouldn’t warm him from the inside to have burdened her this way, but the fact that she had made his problems her own, that she was truly sharing his woes, and he wasn’t alone in this or maybe anything anymore made him raise his arm out of her grasp to hook it around her. She went with it, leaning in to wrap her arm around his torso. 

“I appreciate it,” she said, quietly this time.

“What?” he asked, his voice softening to match. 

“That you haven’t said it.”

“Nnh?”

“That this wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t come. That we should never have come here.”

Bog’s head pulled back. It honestly hadn’t occurred to him. 

“This,” he began. “This isn’t _your_ fault-“

“It could be,” she said. “We won’t know for sure until Sunny reports back. There could be someone who took you and me together as a sign of weakness and took their chance to do something about it.”

It made her a little sick to be thought of as Bog’s weakness, that she could cost him if not his kingdom, at least his castle. Again. But her emotions liked being angry better than guilt and pounced on the first chance to rile her up. She would show whoever was behind this exactly how weak she was! Bog growled something similar under his breath, glaring out the windows again. She couldn’t help but smile at that and leaned her head back against him. He held her a little closer.

Marianne reminded herself that this was worse for him. It was his home, his family, his whole kingdom he was worried about. But they were going to be hers too, and she could start by doing everything in her power to put things right. She felt his fingers tighten on her, and heard the ones on the staff pop as he made them relax a little. This was hardly the time to be cuddly, even if it would be a comfort, but they could still pace and fret together.


	5. Chapter 5

True to his word, the very first gleam of morning saw Sunny hurrying out of the shadows of the trees toward the Fairy Castle. The guards saw him and alerted everyone. 

“He’s not alone,” they said, which had everyone scrambling to see who was with him. They all crowded along the castle wall to see Sunny leading a figure by the hand. It was about his size and was having trouble keeping up. Sunny had to stop several times to put an arm around it and keep it moving. Dawn called for the gate to be opened and zipped down to meet them. Bog didn’t wait for the gate.

He had come barreling up from the study as soon as the call went out. At the first opening big enough for him, he lunged out into the air and flew down. Marianne was hard after him. He hit the ground right in front of the two, making Sunny yelp and stumble back. The second person made a choking sound and lunged for Bog’s legs. Marianne had her sword out before she heard him sputter.

“Mother??” 

It was Griselda. She and Sunny were both muddy and breathless from the trip. Sunny looked tired from being on the move all night. Griselda looked exhausted. She was too worn out to even fuss at him, which Marianne could tell upset Bog more than anything. Dawn caught up in a blur of color to tackle Sunny and kiss him all over his face.

“Flies!” Sunny said when he was able. “Swarms of them! Gotta be thousands. Millions! They’ve invaded the whole fort.”

“What?” Bog’s face crinkled up. 

“There wasn’t any warning,” Griselda. Her voice was strained, all the gravel in it worn down. “As soon as the sun set the night after you left, they were everywhere. You can bash them easily enough, but there’s just so many! They surrounded us, sealed off the exits, and trapped us inside.”

Bog was processing that, so Marianne took over. Sunny had wrapped his jacket around Griselda, so she hurried them both in with the promise of rest and food. The gate was closed and the guard was set back up. Sunny was given a hero’s welcome by Dawn at least. Griselda was given a comfy chair and a warm drink. The other goblins had all rushed in to see her and ask her questions, and she had cheered up by the time Bog rejoined them. 

“We know the Fly Lord,” he said, confusion plain. “He has his own territory, enough for all his thousand heirs. There’s no reason for this.”

“You did refuse the hand of his youngest daughter,” Griselda reminded him. 

“What?” Bog said again. Marianne snorted and he shot her a cranky look. Griselda took another sip and cleared her throat.

“I introduced you to her and-“

“Mother, you paraded every female you could find through the throne room! Be specific!”

“It’s Roland’s new girlfriend,” Sunny piped up. “I recognized the hickeys.”

“Oh,” said Dawn, trying not to turn it into an ‘ew’.

“Oh…” said Bog as if that made sense. Marianne had to bite back a shriek at the thought of Roland managing to ruin something else in her life. She was making some clawing gestures of her own. Why in the world would Roland do something so stupid as- and then it hit her. 

“Wait,” she said. “This girl, she’s like a princess?”

“Aye.”

“Augh, that creep! He’s still after a crown!”

“He bragged all the way to the castle last time about all his plans for the Dark Forest,” Sunny offered. Remembering how Roland’s arrival had ruined a perfectly blooming moment with Bog made Marianne grit her teeth again. 

“He takes the throne with a wife of royal blood and he’s in,” the Fairy King realized. He had been listening in quietly from the other comfy chair. Marianne went incoherent with snarling fury, but Bog had gone very still. 

“If they are of royal blood then they may know about the Dark Forest’s iron,” he said after a moment, so quietly that Marianne had to stop her rant to hear him. “I doubt she has her own. Roland wouldn’t be able to touch the iron either, but the flies could.”

His shoulders plates shifted, making him a little bigger. He stood back up to his full height. 

“The flies aren’t the only neighbors I have to call on,” he said. Whatever his face did could’ve been a mocking snarl or an evil grin. “And I’m not the only power in the Dark Forest.” He raised his voice to the goblins around him. “We make for the Darkness Beyond!”


	6. Chapter 6

The goblins all cheered. Marianne didn’t know what they were talking about, but she was in. She flew up to Bog and he held out a hand to her. It was that simple. She was not about to be left behind and Bog wasn’t about to leave her, so it was everyone else that was in an uproar. It was just such a relief to have any plan of action after the long night of worry. 

He pulled her into a kiss that was mostly teeth. The prickly feeling in her spine that kept flaring up every time he had lost his temper tingled into the pit of her stomach and she finally recognized it. She probably shouldn’t enjoy the reminder of how dangerous he could be, but it wasn’t feeling like a bad thing. He broke the kiss to shout some orders that sent the goblins running to prepare, but kept his arm around her. 

It took some scrambling to get a plan in place. There was lots of shouting and trying to be helpful. It was finally decided that Griselda was going to stay and rest up. She could recover and tend to Brutus. Some of the goblins were going to make their way home and get in position around the fort. They would watch and wait for reinforcement. The rest of them were going to make for the Darkness Beyond with Bog and Marianne. The Fairy King would muster a force as well and march it into the Dark Forest to direct any attention away from the other groups. 

“We might not be back before nightfall,” Bog said. “If you see a chance to engage, remember that there might be no reinforcements until after sundown. Getting them to help us shouldn’t be hard, but they live in the Dark for a reason.” 

Everyone understood and so all the groups headed out. The group heading to the Darkness Beyond were going to ride the dragonflies. Not all of the goblins had wings and it would keep them all at the same speed. There would be less chance of the group getting separated, and it also meant that they would have to double up, so Marianne got to ride with Bog. 

The dragonfly had more eyes than it had face so she wasn’t sure how friendly it was, but moved its wings to let her crawl on first and then held very still when Bog swung on behind her. His arms fenced her in on either side and she could lean back against him if she wanted to, but the dragonfly took off suddenly enough that she clung to it instead. Just until they were in the air, anyway. He may have snorted a little chuckle into her hair and she might have let go to show off just a tad, even if she did tighten her legs. 

“The Darkness Beyond is a cave,” Bog explained as they flew along. He had to shout to be heard over the hum of the wings. “So of course it’s dark. Dark beyond darkness, I suppose. It’s also on the edge of the Dark Forest, so it could be the Darkness Beyond the Forest. We just call it the Darkness Beyond.”

“Who lives there?” Marianne shouted back. “Are they goblins?”

“Distant kin,” Bog said. “You wouldn’t know to look at them. They’re like bats. My father told me they were descended from a pooka that took the shape of a bat.”

“Are they dangerous?” she asked and he leaned over to grin at her.

“Of course,” he said and she grinned back. 

The current ruler of the Darkness Beyond was a prince named Drear, Bog explained as they went. The elder king was still alive, but had gone mostly feral in his later years. He wasn’t seen much anymore, except in nightmares, so his son had stepped up. There was also a princess, he said, but it was a political marriage and he didn’t know much about the Lady Emily. They weren’t likely to meet her. 

“Married into a family with a Nightmare King and a Dreary Prince?” Marianne said. “She’s a lucky girl.”

“She knew what she was doing,” Bog said. There was a story there, Marianne was sure, but Bog didn’t elaborate. “I haven’t been there since Drear took the throne, but we know each other. He’ll help as long as its clear that I’m asking for a favor.”

“Why is that important?” Marianne asked. She didn’t like the thought of having to beg for help. 

“We stay out of each other’s way,” Bog said. “The bats hunt the Dark Forest and we’re allowed in the caves, but we tend to mind our own business. I didn’t get involved in the whole territory dispute that got him married because he never asked, and he won’t interfere in this unless I ask.” He shrugged. “Nobody likes a nosy neighbor.”

They went wide around the Dark Forest, keeping an eye on the sun. They had to stop every now and then to let the dragonflies rest. 

Finally, Marianne could see the edge of the Dark Forest against a cliff. The stone was craggy and riddled with holes. The largest was hidden from view until they circled around an outcrop and looked down into it. The blackness yawned up at them. The dragonflies landed and let them off, and then buzzed away to the safety of the trees.

“They might be eaten if we take them in with us,” one of the goblins said.

“Might want to keep your wings down,” another one whispered to Marianne. “Just in case you get mistaken for something tasty.”

“Quiet,” Bog said. He checked the sun again. It was just above the edge of the trees. There was still awhile before sunset. “Good. It’s late enough that they’ll be up and alert, but not on the hunt yet. You two-“ he pointed at the two largest goblins. “Go in first. Announce us. Let’s keep this as official as possible.”

The two nodded and hurried down into the cave. They disappeared as quickly as if they had jumped into black water. Bog waited another minute, then nodded and started after, holding his hand out for Marianne. The other goblins spread out to take position around them and they all walked together into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Blather: Drear and Emily were originally Pitch and Evelyn, and they appeared in a very weird and well-remembered dream I had. I tried to draw them after waking and ended up liking them both enough to give them a story. The first names were already taken (RotG and my own nanowrimo) so I did change those. All the bats were originally named after shades of black, but I ended up liking Drear for some reason. Anyway. OCs.


	7. Chapter 7

Stepping into the cave was like being struck blind. It was darkness without even the hope of light. The amber in her ring and Bog’s staff held onto a faint glow for the first heartbeat or so, and then everything was pitch black. They walked into it. They way was kept mercifully smooth and clear, so all they had to do was keep going. It was unnerving and Marianne could feel her heartbeat in her throat. It began to feel like the darkness was a solid thing pressing against her and she was glad of Bog’s arm along hers. 

The goblins pressed close too. She could hear their uneasy murmurs and felt at least two hands, one on her leg and the other clutching the edge of her dress. She didn’t mind. She was glad it was them and nothing else. Finally, somewhere off in the distance, there was pinprick of light. They all hurried to get to it. It turned out to be a lump of foxfire set in a sconce. It didn’t give much light, but it was better than nothing and they could see more of them leading the way farther into the cave. 

It felt like a long time before they caught up with the first two goblins. They were waiting with a large creature that was as black as the rest of the cave. It was almost invisible except for when it passed a light and draped in something dark and ragged. Marianne couldn’t tell if it was wings or a cloak or some combination of the two. It was guarding a large latticed gate. 

“We’re announced!” one of the goblins said, anxious to show that it had done well. From the way the gatekeeper flinched, they weren’t used to loud noises down here. 

“You are announced,” it echoed. Its voice was a harsh whisper, so they couldn’t tell if it was annoyed or not. “Prince Drear awaits.” It motioned them on and they all went through another passage to a door flanked by much better lights. More guards opened the doors to let them in. 

The throne room had more lights in it, Marianne was glad to see, even if they were flickering and pale. It was a round room with glittering black walls.There was a throne that looked like it was made from the fossil of something that spiraled. A fern maybe, she thought, squinting at it. Or a shell. There were more silent guards all around the room, but they were nearly invisible against the walls. Marianne looked at the faint glimmer all around and wondered what kind of crystal was as black as ink and gleaming only in spots. 

In the fossil throne sat the Prince of The Darkness Beyond. Drear might have been taller than Bog if he had been standing upright, but when he leaned forward to get off the throne, he never seemed to straighten up again. He came toward them hunched over and his stride was so strange, for a moment, Marianne thought he must be on crutches. It wasn’t until he passed by one of the lights that she realized how long his arms were. They reached the ground and he supported himself with them like stilts as he approached. 

It was strange enough to make her stare, and as he came closer she saw something folded along the outside edge of one of those arms. Another flicker of light and she realized they were wings, tucked back, just long leathery wings instead of arms. He didn’t have arms. While she was reeling from that, he came close enough to stare them down. 

She couldn’t tell how much of the leather and fur covering him was clothing and how much was part of him, like Bog and his armor. She couldn’t tell if his legs were actually shorter in proportion or if the broad shoulders and chest needed for those wings left him too top-heavy to walk upright. His ears didn’t help. They were huge and rose high above his head. She wondered if he would fall flat on his face if one of his wings was kicked out from under him. 

Speaking of faces, Drear had a furrowed nose directly between shiny black eyes that Marianne could see her reflection in and nothing else. Her reflection was gaping at him, she realized, so she closed her mouth too quickly. The snap made him raise an eyebrow. She could also see the tips of fangs hanging out over the thin-lipped frown. Bog was already speaking.

“We’ve come to borrow your army,” he said, getting straight to the point. “We’ve been allies for so long, outsiders don’t know we’re separate Kingdoms, and we’ve never asked a favor of each other. As much as it pains me to be the one to ask for help first, I have business with the Fly Lord, and we both know his kind fears yours more than anything.”

There was a pause where the bat prince blinked. He tilted his head, ears twitching as he processed that. Then, his big shoulders hitched and he rasped out a sound that was probably a dry, humorless chuckle. Marianne was prepared to be offended, but he answered before she could snap at him.

“Everything you’ve said is true,” Drear said. “Our fathers were allies before us, and now it falls to us to keep the balance of war and peace.” He tilted his head back toward them, and it was Bog’s reflection now looking back at them from the black eye. “When?”

“Tonight,” Bog said at once. He thumped the staff on the black-tiled floor. “Now.”

There was another moment of consideration. Marianne was watching Drear carefully and she was starting to think there might be a pupil in his eye after all, just black on black and dilated in the dim cave. She could see something move as if his eyes were flicking over both of them as he thought about it. He glanced up and to the side and his eyes narrowed a fraction. She looked quickly to see who was there and saw a wisp of shadow passing by one of the lights. She couldn’t tell what it was, but it seemed to make up Drear’s mind. 

“Very well,” the bat prince said, drawing himself up on the tips of his thumbs. He looked over his shoulder into the darkness overhead and his voice rose to a roar. “Turn the sky black!”

The walls around him began to move. Mouths full of gleaming fangs opened everywhere and Marianne’s jaw dropped open again as well as she realized that the sparkle all around was the gleam of countless inky eyes. She felt Bog’s arm around her as a multitude of bats dropped off their perches and began to fly around them. 

The rush of their movement was disorienting and the wind from their wings buffeted the fairy and goblins around. There were also the bat pooka appearing out of the dark all around them. Some of them must’ve had hands because they were carrying weapons. Drear called orders back and forth and everyone flew to obey him. He shouted something else and a few bats landed in front of Bog and Marianne and the goblins. They were wearing saddle rigs. The one in front of Marianne and Bog hissed at them and wiggled into position. They were meant to ride it. 

Bog scooped Marianne up and set them both on the thing’s back. It was in the air in another blink, joining the swirling swarm. Marianne could feel the long bones in the bat’s body move as it flew. It wasn’t like a dragonfly and was nowhere near like her own wings, but it was fast and stronger than either. She could see the other goblins following Bog’s example, clambering on their own mounts. The bats were going in loose circles, getting organized. 

Down below, she saw Drear being farewelled by a type of creature she had never seen before. It wasn’t a fairy or goblin, and looked nothing like the bat pooka. It had no wings, but Marianne did see a tail. By the way it went up on its toes to touch Drear’s face, it had to be the Lady Emily. Drear appeared unmoved and made no gesture in return. Ouch, thought Marianne.

Drear unfurled his wings and took to the air. His wingspan was huge compared to a fairy’s. He screamed something that Marianne could feel in her marrow, the roots of her teeth, under her fingernails, and now in the nubs of her antennae. She didn’t so much cringe as jerk inwards at the sensation. All the bats screeched back an answer and the whole swarm headed out of the cave and toward the Dark Forest. 

Marianne caught a glimpse of Lady Emily again, watching them go. She was flanked by two more of the bat pooka shadow guard. Was she under watch? Not trusted? Or just well-protected? It as hard to worry about another kingdom’s political romance with battle waiting though. She had the wind in her face and Bog’s arms around her. The speed and power of the bats made for a thrilling ride through the cave and back out into the Forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is interested, I did try to draw Drear. That's [here](http://hermitchild.deviantart.com/art/first-try-533937686).


	8. Chapter 8

They hadn’t been in the caves that long, Marianne realized when they burst back out into open air. The sun was still halfway up outside, but the cloud of bats blocked it out. Prince Drear flew underneath them, dodging the occasional beam of light that got through the wall of bodies. She wondered if it would actually hurt him to be touched by it. 

Flying by bat was nothing like the dragonflies or her own wings. There was more power and less noise. She could talk to Bog without shouting.

“What’s the plan?” she asked. Their bat twitched an ear back at them, but lost interest when she wasn’t speaking to it. 

“I knew Drear would agree,” Bog said. “He only really goes out to hunt since he took the throne, and he hasn’t led a hunt since the last new moon.” He chuckled a little nastily. “And the flies are terrified of him since his father used to eat them regularly. Still does, if the rumors are true. Fairies too, actually.”

“What?” Marianne half-turned to glare at him over her shoulder. “I thought Sluice was just making fun of me.”

“And goblins,” Bog was quick to add. “Anything he caught in the air, really. That’s one of the reasons we were so quick to strike a truce with him. Old King Nox could eat a troop a night back in the day.”

Marianne let that thought process. She breathed in, and let the horror of the thought of the flies killed and eaten fall away. It was better to imagine Roland being seized by a bat and shaken until his teeth rattled. That helped. This was his fault. Again. Bog had said that the goblins and flies had never been at odds before. In a reasonable world, they would’ve been allies against the bats.

How had such a weird truce held for so long? Probably Bog, she thought. Nothing like a king with some bite to get things done. She reached back to hug him with one arm. From there it was easy to pull his ear down to her lips. 

“We can go in through the skylight,” she said. “And be inside while they’re still trying to hold the gate. 

“You’re brilliant,” he said, grinning at her. 

“We get in,” she said, grinning back. Fierce lights had begun to gleam in her eyes. “Let this swarm handle _that_ swarm. Find the bug princess so you can ransom her back to her father and find Roland so we can beat the treason out of him.”

He couldn’t help but kiss her at that, which was tricky on the back of a moving bat, but they managed. 

“And after that,” she said when she could. “We get married.”

“Oh yeah,” he agreed, eyebrows raising. “Right then. I love it.” He might have been expecting her to be kidding, but she kissed him again. 

“I love _you_ ,” she said, then turned back to the Forest ahead of them.


	9. Chapter 9

On the bats, it didn’t take long to get back to the new fortress. The sun was finally setting and Bog was able to steer his bat close enough to one of the goblins to tell them about the skylight plan. They agreed and veered their mounts off to find the goblins that were hidden around the fort. As soon as the bats hit, they were to get to the window and open it. The riding bats didn’t want to leave their group, but gave in after some hissing. They flapped away and Bog sent his bat as close to Drear as they could get. 

“We have a way in!” he called to the Prince. 

“Good,” was all Drear said, and then they were in sight. Sort of. The fort was hidden inside a cloud of humming, buzzing flies. Sunny had been right. They were everywhere, hundreds of thousands of them. A huge storm of them was concentrated off to the side. There were flashes of light from down underneath and Marianne realized that it was fairy swords and armor. Her father’s troops were there already. 

They had been held back at the road leading to the fortress. The army of flies kept them pinned down. The air was too full of them for the fairies to be be able to fly, so the soldiers had to inch forward through the swarm on foot, stabbing and swinging at every step. Marianne wasn’t really worried about them, even if the flies could bite, the fairies were all armored. And being close enough to bite was close enough to be stabbed, she reminded herself, hand on her own sword. 

The hum of all the flies was maddening, but Marianne still heard another dry little huff of laughter from overhead. She looked up to see Drear’s grim face split into a toothy smile. He lead the bats downward in a wide circle so the flies had a moment to realize that something was happening before the last rays of the sun were blocked out. Then, the bats fell on them and the screaming began. 

The flies had no defense but to run and there were too many of them to hide. The air was filled with squeals and screeches and lots of little crunches. Some of the bat pooka had hands and carried weapons. There were putting out eyes and slashing at wings and kicking the flies into the path of the bats. Marianne hardened her heart again. She spotted some goblins on the ground, running to the fort in the new confusion. They were heading for the window. 

Bog kicked at his bat’s sides to get it going and it glared over its shoulder at him. It showed its fangs to remind them how bug-like and tasty they could potentially be before grudgingly swooping down to follow his lead. Drear coasted along with them too. He snapped the occasional fly out of the air as they went. It would have turned Marianne’s stomach if she let herself think about it.

The goblins below had made it to the window and three of them were straining to get it open while the others fended off the flies who weren’t in an absolute panic. Once it was open, Drear swooped in, tucking his wings to dive past them through the round window. Bog and Marianne were hard after him. The goblins jumped in as they went by, pulling the window closed behind them. The few flies that got in with them didn’t last long. The goblins tore most of them apart, grabbing their legs and pulling. Marianne didn’t look. 

Somehow, Bog’s room had been spared any fly invasion. They had a moment of blessed quiet and cool dark, but then Drear threw the doors open. Light flooded in, along with the hum of millions of wings and little high-pitched voices. That was all drowned out by Drear’s scream as he roared in predatory glee. 

All the beady little multi-faceted eyes in the places went wide as the bat prince burst through the door at them. Once clear of the door, Drear spread his wings and pounded them. The gust blew all the flies back. Marianne wasn’t sure that even fairies could stand up to it, and no sooner had she thought that than she saw Roland suddenly reeling as the crowd of bugs around him was blown away.

He wasn’t in armor, but he was wrapped in something soft and roomy and all the bugs seemed to be trying to help him, even in the face of the sudden flood of bats everywhere, chomping them down and sending segments flying. Marianne was already on the ground, sword in hand. She had to dodge a piece of thorax as it went sailing by. 

She fought her way through the flies to get to Roland. Up close, the flies looked so harmless that she had almost used the flat of her sword instead of the edge to drive them back. Then, three of them descended on her at once. Their sticky legs were everywhere, their weirdly textured bodies shoved into her, whiskery antennae things tried to wriggle into her eyes and ears. It was horrendous, but then Bog smashed one with the blunt end of the staff. It splattered and the other two retreated. 

Marianne looked at the twitching body and the spurt of yellow ichor for a moment too long. A needly proboscis jabbed into the back of her neck. The sudden sting made her spin with a roar. Her sword slashed through the proboscis and the face behind it. She kept swinging. Bog gave her a nod and they both got back to fighting.


	10. Chapter 10

Marianne waded back into the fight. The back of her neck still stung, but it only made her angrier. The flies were still trying to knock her down and restrain her, but they weren’t armored enough to stop her sword. Another rush of wind sent her sliding across the floor, but it also blew all the flies even farther. She thought it must be Drear snapping his wings again, but didn’t look away from the fight to check. Roland was still trying to get away, and she launched herself after him.

He saw her coming and tried to bolt. He was tangled in his robe and moved clumsily, even with a team of flies on each side to hold him up and keep him going. The other flies did everything in their power to keep Marianne from reaching him. How had _he_ , of all people, been able to inspire such loyalty? They blocked the way so he had time to duck into one of the corridors and run. Why wasn’t he flying? she wondered. She almost spread her own wings to give chase, but a fly over her head was suddenly chomped in half by a bat and she remembered that the air was not a safe place to be right now. She took off after him on foot. 

She looked back to see Stuff and Thang making for the dungeons to release anyone the flies might have imprisoned. She could hear the cries of her father’s soldiers getting closer as they fought their way to the front gate. Bog was cutting a swath of crushed insects to his throne. He was glorious. The curve of his body as he fought, the flash of blue eyes and teeth as his snarl became a predatory grin, the effortless swing of the staff that she knew weighed enough to smash bone when it hit, marked him as dark and wild as the forest itself. He was all kingly ferocity with none of the pretense. He didn’t need a crown to be be a king. Anyone who saw him like this would have no doubt who ruled here. 

She allowed herself a moment to enjoy the sight of it and the thought that he was hers, and then she started after Roland again. He wasn’t moving quickly and the flies refused to leave him to save themselves. They made pitiful noises of terror and squinched their eyes shut when they saw her coming, but still flung themselves in her path. She growled in frustration, batting them away with the flat of her sword when she could. Roland was still trying to shuffle away as quickly as he could managed. She didn’t know what was wrong with him and really didn’t care.

Marianne roared his name to make him face her and grabbed the hood of the robe when he didn’t. She yanked backwards and he stumbled. He let the robe pull off rather than fall backwards. 

“I don’t know HOW you got the Fly Lord to go along with this-“ she began, but then stopped to stare. Under the robe, Roland wasn’t wearing much else and he had five protrusions growing out of him, each as big as his head. Each lump had a darker spot, like an eye and she had thought that was disgusting enough, but then, the dark spots all pulled inward and she realized they were the heads of warbles. She had only ever seen them in sick squirrels or rabbits. Her stomach clenched tight and even her wrath twisted into something more horrified than angry.

Roland smirked at her, and took advantage of her shock to snatch the robe back. He tossed it over his shoulders regally.

“I happen to be carrying his grandchildren,” he sneered at her. “I’m the Royal Consort.” The battered flies were still trying to get between him and Marianne to shield Roland. He backed away carefully, edging along the wall. She was genuinely flabbergasted. Did he really care about the little warbles or was he just hoping that she wouldn’t kill babies to get to him? Had he really allowed _this_ to happen to him? Had it been his idea? Was the love potion that powerful? Or was it just part of his plan to put a crown on his head? Just one more thing he was willing to do to be king?

He was still inching away from her, so she shook off her confusion and leveled the sword at his throat again. 

“Don’t move,” she warned him. He froze, but then his smirk came back. She felt the air spin around her as the bats all suddenly changed direction. Drear shrieked again and she was glad she was far enough away from him that it only made her teeth clench a little. Then, Bog screamed her name from much closer, and she turned in time to see a fly lob something that looked like a rock at her. She had practiced enough blind-fighting with her sprites that it was easy to get her sword up to block it, but she should’ve dodged completely. The jolt of it hitting the sword went straight through her arms and into her veins like cold lightning. She dropped the sword, gasping and staggering. 

Roland lunged for the sword and she couldn’t do a thing. She could barely stand up, but then Bog was there. She heard the whistle of the staff swinging through the air with all the force of the Bog King’s killing rage behind it and then the splatter as the flies threw themselves to take the hit for Roland. More of them were grabbing Roland and lifting him, carrying him to safety. Bog let them go to drop to his knees beside Marianne. His hands were warm and she clung to them.

“It burns!” she tried to explain. “But I’m so cold!”

“Iron,” he whispered, horror plain on his face. “You’ve been hit by iron. It didn’t touch your skin, but-“

“I can feel it all through me!”

“Here, love,” he said, picking her up and curling around her. “Just, just, here.” He ran hands over her and dropped kisses in between. It helped. It really did. She tried to tell him, but she was stuttering over her words. Whatever iron did to fairies, it felt like icy, burning death. Bog’s touch dispelled it in spots, making the sensation flee deeper inside her to get away from him. How had Brutus not died from having an actual lump of the stuff inside him? How had he not just dissolved around it, like a snowball packed around a hot coal?

Bats were zipping by overhead, following Roland and the flies. Drear landed nearby and was squinting at them. Goblins and fairy soldiers alike were gathering around. Marianne hoped her father wouldn’t see her like this. 

“What’s the cure for iron?” someone was asking. It wasn’t Bog. He was murmuring comforting nonsense about not _letting_ her die into her ear and throat.The answer came from Drear. 

“True love’s kiss,” he said in his almost-whisper. Bog whined, low and desperate in his throat. “And blood,” Drear added. “ _Old_ blood.”


	11. Chapter 11

Marianne’s teeth were chattering and she pulled her arms and wings close, crossing them over herself to stay warm and shielded. She could feel herself fading, all her life and energy draining away into the cold lump on the ground. It would eat its way through her and leave her cold and empty. There would be nothing left of her. All that she was would wither and die. She was sure of it, somehow. The knowledge was as shocking as the sensation. 

“It didn’t do this to you!” she stuttered to Bog. She didn’t know what to do with despair. She had been able to fight everything else that had hurt her before. There was no defense against this. “It, it just left a mark! It burned you, but you didn’t, didn’t-“

“It still had a layer of food on it when I touched it,” he said. For all his attempts to comfort her, his face was the picture of horror. “And I’m much older than you…”

She wanted to tell him that it didn’t make sense. The iron had only hit her sword. The only difference was the impact. Why would it be so much worse this way? What did age have to do with it? Her voice wouldn’t work though. She just made a gulping sound. He pulled her up as close as he could get her. He supported her head in the crook of his elbow, brushing her hair back from her face. 

“Marianne?” he whispered and she could hear the fear in his voice. She had to let him know she was ok, so she managed a smile for him. The sight of it must have stabbed him from the sound he made. She was never good at smiles. She felt his huff of breath on her face and saw his sweet eyes squint in misery. She wished she could get him to smile for her. If it was the last thing she got to see, it would be nice if he didn’t look like his own heart was stopping. 

He pressed his forehead to hers, squeezing his eyes shut. His fingers tightened too, like he thought he could hold the life in her. But then, he pressed a kiss to her lips and the now-familiar rasp of his mouth sent warmth flooding through her. She had always found his kisses blissful, but this one she couldn’t help but melt into. It flowed through her veins, following the chill of the iron and dissolving it. The terrible certainty of death lifted off her heart. His huge hands held her steady. She could feel his heartbeat through both their skins, pumping bright life into both of them. 

She still felt weak and drained, and a little chill still hovered deep in her bones, but she could breathe again. She might never be the same again, but she might not die after all. Her wings hung like dead leaves. She couldn’t even remember what it was like to be strong enough to lift them. It took all her strength to raise her hand to touch Bog’s face and she barely made it before it fell to his shoulder instead. She heard him exhale hard and he shifted to turn her into the curve of his body. 

“Give me that,” Bog said, quiet and deadly. He held out his hand for one of the hovering fairy guard’s sword. The guard looked at Marianne as if to ask what to do, but she couldn’t even remember his name. He was one of the few Dawn has never been interested in and he cast around for help for a whole second, before Bog bared his teeth. The sword was handed over immediately after that and Marianne watched in confusion as Bog turned it easily to lay the edge against a seam in his armor. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Drear said, making him stop with a snarl. 

“You said old blood,” Bog hissed through his teeth. “And I am descended-“

“As am I,” Drear snapped back. “As are we all. But not old enough. And do you even know what to do? Pour it down her throat? Bathe her in it?”

“Say what you know!” Bog growled. He was still careful not to jostle Marianne, but he did point the sword at Drear. 

“The truly Old Ones came from all over,” Drear said, ignoring the blade. “Under the hills, out of the water, from moonlight and sunlight, and any place the barriers between worlds are thin.”

“What are you talking about?” snapped a new voice. Marianne knew that one. Her father was there. How long had he seen this? He was probably sick with worry. She should say something about being all right, but following the conversation was taking everything she had. Either Drear’s oddly-pitched voice was hard to make out, or what he was saying didn’t make any sense. She could hear the words, but they wavered in and out. She could hear Bog when he spoke though, and she leaned her head against him, letting the rumble in his chest vibrate into her. 

“And they took different shapes and mates and what have you until their great-great grandchildren were only shadows of what they had been,” Drear was still talking. “Most of the Old Ones have died or faded or have retreated back to wherever they came from, but they were powerful enough that their blood could neutralize iron.”

“If you know where to find one, please just say so,” the Fairy King said, torn between begging and commanding. He had tried holding Marianne’s hand, but it had felt so cold and limp that he had let it rest on Bog again. Drear made an unhappy noise that matched his expression perfectly.

“I know _who_ ,” he said. “Just not _where_.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” Thang asked. He had been waiting quietly with the other goblins in respectful silence, but had crept closer for a better look. He was up on his toes to see Marianne. Stuff would normally have shushed him and pulled him back, but she was worried too. 

“Use bait,” Drear said. He looked over the trees and pointed with his ear. His bats were bringing something blond and shouting back in their claws. “And here it comes.” He made another sound, this one more exasperated, then shouted. “Ebon! Somber!” Two of the pooka shadow guard dropped down beside him. “Fetch my lady wife here,” he told them. “We’ve a trap to set.” They flew off without a sound, vanishing against the night sky.


	12. Chapter 12

Marianne drifted in and out. She was aware of people coming and going around her, but Bog kept her close. Fairies and goblins working together was a good thing, she thought. Just like she had always said. It was a shame that it had to be her life they were trying to save. She could hear fairy healing songs and feel light touches as warm as sunlight. There were songs she didn’t know as well, in gruffer voices, with colder, damper hands. 

One hissed too close to Marianne’s ear. Was that Griselda? She must’ve been been sent for as well. There was no one else that voice could belong to. 

They were all trying to help her. They fluttered and hovered all around, being careful not to block any moonlight from her. She was just trying to make sense of it. Brutus had screamed and collapsed, but he hadn’t been rendered so completely helpless. Why was she being affected so much more?

“Brutus is five times your size,” Griselda whispered into her ear. Had Marianne said that out loud? “And the iron he swallowed was barely a tenth of the piece that hit you.” There was a pause and then an even softer whisper. “And he still may never be the same again. Shh.” Griselda shushed her even though Marianne didn’t think she had said anything. Was she still making noises? “Bog doesn’t know that part. He’s already got a box full of fly eyes to send to the Fly Lord. He was going to make them into a crown and put them on the daughter’s head to send back in the box, but-“

“What?” Bog growled suddenly, as if he had just now aware that Griselda was there. “What are you telling her?”

“That’s she going to be fine,” Griselda said at her usual volume. “That she just has to hold on a little longer. Oh look, the bats are back.”

There was a whoosh of displaced air and the two shadow guard dropped back to the ground. Held between them was the Lady Emily. Curiosity made Marianne fight to focus her eyes and squint through the gloom, but Emily was all covered in draping cloth. She blended in with the surrounding evening almost as well as the bat pooka did. The only things Marianne was able to tell about the other princess were the moon-like gray eyes and a tail with a tuft of hair at the end. She didn’t seem to have wings, which explained why she had to be carried. 

She was ushered over, and gave a perfectly formal greeting to Drear, and Bog, and Marianne’s father. Whatever the Princess of the Darkness Beyond was, she was polite. Emily bent to look closely at Marianne, giving her a better look at the gray eyes. She made a sympathetic sound, which Marianne wasn’t sure she appreciated.

“Princess Marianne,” Emily said. Her voice was as soft and clear as her eyes. “I’ve brought something that may help you.”

“Blood?” she heard Bog say. He sounded suspicious. 

“No, Your Majesty,” she said. “Long ago, my folk were the ones who taught the Fairies to capture sunlight in dew drops.” She produced something that glowed white. “But we preferred the moon.” 

Marianne blinked at the thing in Emily’s hands. It was a bowl with a glob of glowing silver water in it. Moonlight caught in a dew drop? she wondered. It looked cool and bright and she felt herself lean toward it. Bog took the bowl and sniffed it before holding it to Marianne’s lips. It took her a moment to figure out how to drink it and some of it ended up dripping over her chin. It left chilly trails down her neck, but the first swallow sent a rush of cold through her that drowned everything else out. 

It made her think of the bottle she had brought to share with Bog on their first night. She was left gasping. It didn’t bring her strength back, but it did clear her head. She blinked at Bog and saw his expression relax a little when she was able to focus on him. They were in the thorn patch, she realized, seeing the sharp points everywhere. They were underneath it. 

“Better?” Bog asked.

“Yeah,” she said, and hearing her voice made obvious relief go through him. His whole being sagged a little. She tried to raise a hand to wipe her chin and still didn’t have the power. Bog did it for her and hugged her. 

They all looked up at a clamor coming from through the trees. A fairy voice was yelling and several pooka voices were chuckling. Emily went to peek through the briars and the others went to see too. Bog carried Marianne against his shoulder, which made her grunt, but she really wasn’t in any shape to go under her own steam. She could see the gleam of black eyes and green armor and slick goblin hides all around. 

There was a clear place in the underbrush. In the middle if it, Roland was staked out into the open. He had been stripped of the robe at some point. He looked lumpy and sounded highly indignant.

“You can’t to do this me!” he was shouting. “Babies! I’m carrying royal babies!”

Everyone in the underbrush fell silent to watch whatever was going to happen. Drear looked unhappy. Emily attempted a comforting hand on his shoulder, which he allowed for a moment before shrugging her off. 

“What’s going on?” Bog asked quietly. Marianne was startled that he didn’t know. “Not that I care what happens to that-“

“He’s noisy, juicy bait,” Emily said. She had dropped her voice and was crouching low. 

“For what?”

“Nox. The Nightmare King,” Emily said. “He’s the Eldest and the most powerful. He knows the old glamour-“

“He _is_ the old glamour,” Drear muttered. 

“You know a lot about this,” Griselda said. 

“In this world, a girl has to know her loopholes,” Emily said. 

“Like a political marriage?” Marianne asked. She felt recovered enough to be curious again. 

“Oh yes,” Emily said, tilting her head and smiling a little. She might have said more, but a hush fell over the woods. The bat pookas’ ears all perked, then flattened, and they all shrank down even lower. Some spread their wings over the nearby fairies and goblins, shrouding them all in darkness. 

Out in the clearing Roland was still complaining, but even he faltered as the starlight dimmed and something much darker than the night sky crept over him.


	13. Chapter 13

The Nightmare King landed on a branch, the shadow of his wings spreading over Roland. Fear spread even farther. Bog’s arm tightened around Marianne and she felt a jolt of terror. Next to them, Emily slowly crouched even lower. They could hear her breathing get fast and frightened. Drear hadn’t seen fit to shield her with his wings, Marianne noticed, and her shadow guard didn’t either. She only had her scarves and cloak to protect her from whatever was out there. 

The briars would protect them too, Marianne hoped. That must be why they had set up here instead of inside the fort. 

Out in the clearing, the Nightmare King lowered himself from his branch. His snout came into sight first. Marianne had to bite back a gasp. The Nightmare King was well-named. He was a monster. His face looked liked some fever dream of a griffin’s leaf-nosed bat, but there was something like a spider in the mandibles that opened and chittered as he sank into view. 

He had eyes like a spider too, milky-white and spread around his head like a crown of moonstones. He had either a filmy beard or long whiskers that flared around Roland. Maybe he was blind, Marianne thought, heart in her throat. Roland was cowering, trying to make himself small enough to escape notice. Marianne desperately tried to find a reason not to be afraid. She had been afraid of goblins once, after all. Maybe-

But then she remembered what Bog had told her, how his father had been anxious to make a truce with the Darkness Beyond because Old King Nox ate goblins and fairies and anything else he could catch in the open. This was a thing that even the goblins were afraid of. She looked back at Roland, chained to a stake in the clearing. Would the pooka really allow their king to eat him? 

A glance at the ice in Bog’s eyes told her that _he_ had no trouble letting Roland be eaten. Her father was looking stoney too. Trying to kill her with iron must’ve been the last straw for any favor Roland might’ve had. To be honest, she was having trouble being very upset about it as well. Emily moved to the left and Marianne saw her arm reach to touch Drear’s back again. Drear didn’t move. He was tense and still, watching his father. 

The Nightmare King was still descending, giving Roland more time to collapse with horror. He lowered his wings to touch down, but then there was another pair of wings, still fanning out and blocking more light. He had an extra set of ears too, swiveling in all directions to pick up anything that the numerous eyes might miss. His face split into a leering grin and his breath hissed through mismatched fangs. 

By the time all of him was on the ground, Roland was silent, staring puddle. His expression was all fear with no room for any other thought. 

Drear watched with eyes as black as his father’s were white and waited. He was motionless until one of Nox’s clawed wing-hands pinned Roland to the ground, even then he waited until the maw opened, then he shot forward in a blur of speed. His attack was only a surprise for a moment, but Drear managed to rake claws across a cluster of his father’s eyes. There was a spray of blood and Nox shrieked. It sent a tremor through all the bats, but none of them made any move to join in the fight as the old king tackled his son and sank teeth into his shoulder.

Marianne felt Bog shift and looked up to find him as tense and battle-ready as Drear had been. This much of the plan he apparently did know. The King and Prince battled like animals across the clearing. There was no swords or staff or weapons of any kind except for their teeth and claws. They bashed each other with their wings, bit and raked and shook each other. Drear was maybe a third of the size of his father and had to use more speed and dodging than brute force. His chances didn’t look good. 

All around the bats and pooka braced themselves, while the fairies and goblins either gaped or hid their eyes. What were they waiting for, Marianne wondered. Shouldn’t they help at least one of their rulers? She couldn’t imagine that anyone would prefer Nox as king, but she had to admit that she didn’t know how popular Drear was. Why weren’t they moving?

In case Drear lost, she realized. In case Nox killed him and then came for the rest of them. Emily was as silent and still as they were. Marianne couldn’t believe it. If it had been Bog out there, she would’ve dragged her limp, useless self out to at least trip Nox. How could Emily just sit there? Wouldn’t whatever deal she had made with her marriage be nullified if Drear died? Or was this Emily’s way to the throne without a husband who had made no indication of warm feelings toward her?

Bog was ready to do _something_ , Marianne could tell. He was following the fight carefully, waiting for whatever opening was coming. His wings were up and his grip was tight. In the clearing, Roland squealed as the two bat-like creatures rolled past him. Nox was wheezing loudly. Drear had been aiming for his nose and blood dripped from it, making it hard for the old king to breathe. It also kept Nox from being able to hold on for long when he bit Drear. With a mouthful of his son, he couldn’t breathe at all and had to let go to inhale. Every time he pulled back, Drear would slash him and get out of reach again. 

Drear was hurt too though. He had several nasty bite wounds and from the way Nox threw him around, he was nowhere near as strong as his father. He was getting slower and bleeding badly. Nox screeched at him, mandibles flaring wide around a gullet lined with more teeth all the way down. Drear hissed back an answer. Marianne wondered why he didn’t try to talk to his father. Was Nox too far gone for that?

Drear drew himself back up and flared his wings out, battered and bloody as he was. It looked defiant and useless and even Nox seemed to think so. The old king made a snickering sound and mockingly threw out his own wings. They were longer and wider than Drear’s and in the tight clearing, they snagged on the thorns. Nox had to twist, bringing his other wings up for balance, and in that instant, the plan became clear.

Drear sprang straight for his head and pounced. He anchored one wing into Nox’s skull and wrenched the ghastly head back. Then, everyone was moving. The pooka shot forward, swarming their king and pinning him. Bog dashed out of hiding with them, Marianne still under his arm. He went straight to the spot under Nox’s chin, roaring for Drear. 

Marianne had a heartbeat to see Drear grimace and then his free claws slashed downwards into his father’s throat. Glistening black blood sprayed out and Bog held her up to let it pour over her. It was hot and shimmering in her ears and eyes and spreading over her. She could taste it, warmer than her own blood and so full of old, powerful life that any lingering traces of the iron didn’t stand a chance. It was also full of hunger.


	14. Chapter 14

It all made sense. Nothing could stay sane with all this coursing through their veins. She could feel time passing, every miserable second dragging on into eternity and yet the world moved in a blur. Familiar things shriveled and died and were gone. People who had been young and strong a moment ago were now weak and withered and yet, there never seemed to be an end to the painful crawl of time. How could anyone bear it? No wonder the old king had crumbled. How much easier to be mindless and hungry than to be aware of what parts of you were truly empty. 

Hunger was an easier emptiness to sate. All around at all times were glowing little lives. Marianne couldn’t see through the blood, but she could make out little lights that formed constellations, some of which she recognized. They were people, and if they were eaten up, they would cast some light over the darkness within. The emptiness could be filled for a while, for a moment. 

Nox shrieked and the sound made Marianne vibrate. She could feel his wrath and his need to consume and finally, finally be filled. She might’ve been roaring with him. She could feel the air being forced out of her. Everything was being forced out of her, leaving nothing but the abyss of that blackhole blood. Nox arched under the weight of his former subjects and threw them off, seeming to grow and swell with rage. The double set of wings thrashed and pumped, sending bats and pookas alike sprawling. 

Marianne didn’t see the toothy maw coming at her. She was dimly aware of a something cavernous opening. Her wings fluttered on instinct to keep her from falling into it, but there were too heavy from the blood to get her off the ground. She saw a flash of amber light and felt the shockwave as it hit something too close to her, but had no understanding that Bog had just bashed the Nightmare King in the face to keep him from biting her. 

Drear was shouting orders, trying to get everyone out of harm’s way again. Marianne’s spine drew tight as Nox’s did and the old king shapeshifted, subtly and horribly. He sprouted bone spurs as long and sharp as the thorns around them, stabbing through everyone still trying to hold him. Drear was forced into the air by the stabbing bones and Nox swatted him back to the ground with a crunch. 

The prince tried to roll free and get to cover, but Nox grabbed him and yanked him back. Drear’s claws left furrows on the ground, but Nox was too strong for him. Bog waded back in, staff swinging. Marianne could see his form outlined in lights as blue as his eyes. The staff was only visible as the glints of light off the amber stone and the way the air moved around it as it whistled through. It cracked against Nox’s wing joint, snapping it like an acorn shell. Nox bellowed and forced the shattered bones into a new shape, healing them as they shifted. 

It was all happening so fast, but Marianne felt like it was taking forever. She watched Bog block the next stab of something chitinous that shot out of Nox and send another crushing blow with the staff. She didn’t have a name for him in her black-coated mind, but she knew that her heart behaved strangely at the sight of him. Deep down, she knew he was hers somehow. She didn’t want him hurt or killed, but it was taking forever for her to go help him. She had been trying to take a step toward the amber and blue lights since the reassuring touch had left with them. She might as well have been trapped in black amber herself.

She saw white lights come off Drear as he struggled back to his feet. And hands. Whatever those were. Nox lashed at him again, driving him back down. Marianne couldn’t tell if he had been stabbed by one of the spurs and impaled, or just crushed by the impossible strength of the old king. Whichever it was, his lights flickered and he crumbled like a broken umbrella. Nox lunged at his son, teeth first. Bog cracked a few more of his joints as he went by, but couldn’t stop him. Then something else slid into view. 

Marianne didn’t remember how she knew Emily anymore than she knew she remembered Bog, but the part that did was surprised. Through the blood, Emily’s life lit her up through her clothes, letting Marianne see the outline of body. The princess had kangaroo rat-like legs to match her tail and she slid in between Drear and Nox with them. Marianne felt the stab of some twisted emotion go through Nox at the sight of her. Whatever she was, the Nightmare King had been trying to get his teeth in her for a long time. Maybe not her in particular, but whatever kind of creature she was, it was meant to be swallowed by darkness. 

Nox forgot that he had pinned his son and intended to kill him. He forgot the Bog King and the terrible pains from that punishing piece of brightness. He forgot everything but the bright little life in front of him and he went for it despite his injuries. Emily sprang away from him. She didn’t need wings, jumping like that. She cleared the thorns and caught herself on the side of a tree to change direction and leap to another. She bounded and flew through the underbrush in a blur of milky gray. 

Nox was hard after her, his wings realigning and reshaping to follow her through the branches. Drear screamed her name as bats and pooka blocked out everything as they took off again. Bog was shouting too, sending the goblins to help her, to hide her. Everyone was talking and yelling and moving and Marianne was suddenly sick of the black emptiness coating her. She wanted to move and scream and shake until she was free of it. 

Bog still had her arm, she realized. He might not have let go of her this whole time except to block Nox. That made sense. He was Bog. He was hers. It was becoming clearer. Her hands were finally moving, raising up. He was waving the staff again, pointing in different directions as goblins ran to obey him. She touched his chin and he jumped, wings flaring as he turned to her. 

“Marianne?” he asked, snarls going soft and hopeful. “Are you…?”

She didn’t know what the rest of the question was. What she was was covered in monster blood and still not quite connected to the world that she was starting to think should be much easier to reach. What she was was sticky and disgusting and the Nightmare King’s ravenous predation was giving her a headache. None of those things stopped her from pulling him downward, and none of them stopped him from getting it all over himself to kiss her.


	15. Chapter 15

Emily ran for her life. There was no other way to describe it. She sprang away, jinking and dodging from tree to tree. She slid under branches and brambles and ducked around rocks, changing directions in a blink of an eye. She had to. It was all that kept her out of Nox’s reach. He was coming hard and fast at her, shapeshifting to make himself more stream-lined one moment and then going fluid and flexible to fit through the underbrush. His shadow never fell over her more than a heartbeat before she was leaping away again. 

The bat pooka did their best to keep up. They were no match for Nox either and had to dodge his wings and snapping teeth. A few got close enough to hold out their hands to her, but she shook her head and kept running. As much of a horror as it was to try to lose him in the forest, she would be an easy target in the air. As fast as the pooka were, they would never be able to outfly Nox while carrying her. He would have no qualms about eating them either. It was best just to run. 

The goblins were a little more helpful. They knew the Dark Forest better than anyone and all the secret trails and hidey-holes were theirs. They signaled with horns and whistles, letting her slide into hidden doors. Nox would tear his way through in a matter of moments, but the goblins would scatter and let Emily out another way. She didn’t have any time to catch her breath, but it gave her a few moments head start each time. 

The pooka guard would get in his way and slow him down as much as they could without being killed themselves, but he seemed unstoppable. All too often, it took everything Emily had just to stay out of his reach. He was fast and strong and tireless, and the fear of him stretched farther than he did. She had to keep reminding herself that he could be fought, he could be hurt. She could hear his breath wheeze through his teeth and gurgle around the blood in his nose. Drear had slashed his snout and he either hadn’t or couldn’t shapeshift his sinuses around the injuries. 

Drear was hurt worse, though. Even with the combined forces of the pooka, goblins, and fairies, it hadn’t been enough to truly incapacitate the old king. He was still in the air, still dangerous. Drear had barely been able to stand the last she had seen of him. Hopelessness was a cold weight in her chest. Nox couldn’t be stopped. They would never be free of him. He had killed so many of all of their people that it wasn’t even shocking that he would strike down his own son. Drear hadn’t been shocked. He had known this would happen. 

He had been so careful, the whole time she had been married to him. He had only gotten involved to help the Bog King with the flies and then to help the Fairy Princess. The poor girl would’ve died a miserable death from the iron. Emily might have a hideous end waiting for her as well. To her left, Somber whistled and she didn’t even look before springing towards him. Behind her, she felt the shockwave of air as Nox’s jaws snapped shut where she had just been. Somber grabbed her in mid-air and heaved, giving her a boost that flung her higher into the trees than she could’ve leaped on her own. Her toe claws gripped the bark and she launched herself up one more time to get to the canopy. 

Open air was a death trap. Nox would overpower anything in the air, if he could get to it. In the branches, she could duck and dodge and he would lose time trying to maneuver after her. She heard another snap and saw Ebon sent reeling. He recovered and swung wide to keep from hitting the tree. Her two guards were doing their best, but how long would it be before one or both of them were killed? How much longer after that until it was her turn? She saw a goblin waving its arms in the underbrush, pointing wildly to a fallen tree that had another goblin waving from a knothole in the side. 

Somber saw it too. She heard him scream something terrified as he threw himself at Nox. She couldn’t even spare him a glance to see if he was all right. She tucked her whole body into a line and dove for the hole. It was a long, sickening fall. If Nox caught up at any moment, he would have her. It only lasted a second, but fear of teeth stretched it out long and horrible. The goblin jumped out of the way as she came through the opening and she tried to roll to a stop. She had no idea how much room was in the hole or what she was about to smack into at top speed. 

It was soft, but solid and broke her fall with an “Oof!” and a thump. It was a large, lumpy goblin. Her momentum had knocked him down, but the other smaller goblin was grabbing her arm and hissing “Hurry, hurry!” as it towed her back to her feet and down a dark tunnel. Her legs weren’t really made for running the way the goblins were, so she stumbled until she got room to hop again. Behind them, they heard wood splinter and grind as Nox tore at the knothole. The tree was long enough that they were out of his reach for the moment, but the goblins didn’t stop and neither did Emily. 

“You must be delicious,” the big one said as they hustled her to a fork in the tunnel. 

“Go straight,” the smaller one said, pointing at the trail. “Head for the water. There’s always mist at this time of night by the water. It’ll keep you out of sight and weigh his wings down.” Behind them, there was a crash and rush of air as the hole was torn much wider. “Don’t stop!”

The small goblin ducked down a tunnel to the left and the big one to the right. Emily forced herself back into a leap to have momentum on her side when she got clear of the tunnel. She couldn’t help but think it was a bad idea. Mist would hide him from her as well. Maybe she could hide _in_ the water? Dive down and swim somewhere he couldn’t see? But what if dove in after her, wings becoming fins, that slit in his throat turning to gills? It made her a little sick just to imagine it, but that might’ve been exhaustion setting in. 

She had to make it. Somewhere a shrill cry meant that Ebon at least was still looking for her too. She hoped Somber was all right. She hoped Drear wasn’t as badly hurt as he looked. She hoped she would live to find out. She just had to keep going. But to where? She couldn’t just run around the forest all night!

She was out in the open again and she threw herself back to full speed. She could smell the cool damp of the water somewhere ahead and just as the goblin said, there was mist, as soft gray as she was. Maybe she really could hide in it for a little while, put some distance in between them. Something stabbed out of the darkness behind her and she only had an instant to shrug out of her cloak and let him tear it to shreds instead of her. Gasping from the close call, she threw herself into the rising fog. 

Get to the water, the goblin had said. That felt like her only hope now. The moon was still shining over the trees but it had begun to set. Maybe if she could just stay alive until morning? Maybe the sun would drive him back to whatever pit in the Darkness Beyond he still thought of as home. But the Dark Forest might not get bright enough to drive him away, even in daylight. Even if it did, could she hold out that long? Every breath burned and she could feel how much slower she was than she had been. She was already tired. She would never last that long. 

She splashed into cold water and gasped twice. The first was surprise, the second was to hold a breath before she dove under. The current was slow enough not to sweep her away quickly. That would’ve been better. She went as deep as she could and turned to scan the surface. She could see the pale smudge of the moonlight and waited for a dark shadow to block it out. 

There was nothing for a moment, but she was going to need a breath. She rose slowly, thinking that if she could just get her nose above the water, she could breathe without revealing herself. Drowning wasn’t that much better than being eaten. She drifted almost to the surface, feeling the soft drag of the current. When she couldn’t stand it another second she raised her head enough to suck in a lungful of air and then drop back under again. The moon still shone down, and she wondered suddenly, if she could trap enough moonlight in the stream itself that it would keep Nox away. If it could be done in a dewdrop could it be done in a pool? Would it repel him or just bring him to her like a beacon? Was it worth the strength it would take to try?

She didn’t know, and it was such a relief to not be running, that she decided to let the stream carry her a little farther before she did anything. It ran all through the Dark Forest, she remembered, and out into the Fairy Fields too. No matter where it took her, she could find a way back. She tilted her head up just a bit to pull in another breath and sank back down. Take a moment, she told herself. Rest and be ready to run again as soon as you have to. Somewhere upstream, something big hit the water.


	16. Chapter 16

Back in the thorns, there was still pandemonium. The teams of pooka and goblins who had gone to help Emily left other groups behind to make sense of what remained. Several were trying to tend to Drear. Some were making a final sweep to be sure all the flies were gone. Everyone was scurrying to check on everything and be sure that it was safe to get back in the fortress. 

It took Marianne awhile to even notice all the motion and noise around her. She had been lost in the ravenous void of Nox’s blood, and then again in warm bliss of Bog’s kiss. Coming out of it, they still spent a long moment soaking each other in, letting relief melt away the cold dread of fear. Bog’s thumb stroked over her lip and onto her cheek. His blue eyes were as welcome as daylight. From the way he was beaming at her, he was every bit as glad to see her.  

A goblin ran by with a load of biting, champing insects in each hand and it was bizarre enough to make them both look away from each other. The insects had tiny grub bodies and over-sized mandibles. They had to be carried by the scruffs of their necks (If that's what it was. Marianne wasn't sure.) to keep them from biting the goblin. He carried them carefully and quickly over to where a group was trying to help Drear. Marianne felt her teeth go on edge at the sight.

Drear had been savaged by his father. Gaping bite wounds hung open over his back and shoulders. There were stab wounds through his wings and in his belly. Nox’s blood ran black from his claws and teeth, but his own blood pooled red around him. He was still up on his elbows, but sinking fast. Pooka were speaking to him in their whispering language, probably trying to be comforting, maybe assuring him that his wife would be fine, if he cared about that. They had their wings out, maybe to shield him from any light, maybe to keep any more of his subjects from seeing him so beaten.

It didn’t stop the goblins.  They scampered back and forth, ducking under leathery wings like they would curtains. Two more came running out of the woods with armfuls of leafy plants. The goblin with the insects was met by helpers who each grabbed one of the bugs. It was a team effort. One goblin would hold the edges of Drear’s injuries together and the other would make a bug bite down to hold the skin closed. Once the bug had a good grip, the goblin would twist its body off.

Marianne flinched the first time, but then watched in amazement. The clamped mandibles held the bite wounds together.  The goblins ate the rest of the bug bodies as they worked.  The goblins with the plants had quickly begun to chew the leaves to a messy paste. They spit it into their hands and then smeared it over the injuries. Griselda was there, supervising.

“Keep him still until that dries,” she told the pooka. “He tears it open we have to start all over. Keep him quiet, keep him still.” Drear hissed something dangerous sounding. Griselda wasn’t impressed. She kept bossing everyone around.

“Did she ever use this stuff on you?” Marianne asked.

“No need,” Bog said. He rapped his knuckles against his chest. “Armored.”

“Sensible,” she said, smiling at him.  
   
Some fairies were trying to help too. They were offering to go get valerian and red beets and other healing plants they knew. Griselda was nodding and sending them on, but whether she thought it would really help or was just getting them out of the way, Marianne couldn’t tell. Drear tried to straighten up and Marianne couldn’t keep back an ‘ooh’ when she saw the slash across his head. One of his ears was flopped and was too bloody for her to tell if it had been cut in half or if the muscle holding it up had been damaged. He tried to look around, past all his assistance, scanning the forest for what? His wife? His father?

“Marianne?” someone said, and it was her own dad. His face lit up when she turned to look. “Oh thank goodness!” He seized her in a hug. She heard a begrudging amused sound from Bog, as if he hadn’t been every bit as glad to see her up and clear-eyed again. She made a face at him over her shoulder, but got it under control when her father pulled back to look at her. “You look all right,” he said, smile wobbling.

“I feel all right,” she said and he squinched his eyes shut with relief.  She instantly felt bad for teasing him.  He hugged her again. “I’m just glad your sister wasn’t here to see all this,” he said, looking around. Drear yowled in pain or anger from his cluster of helpers. “She’d be beside herself.”

Marianne looked around the scene, trying to imagine how Dawn would see it. The looming briars all around would’ve been enough to worry Dawn, she thought. Add in the black and red blood everywhere, the piles of fly bodies, the headless bugs being eaten as fast as they were decapitated, and green slimy stuff being spit all over, and poor Dawn would never sleep without a light on again. Then, her eyes fell on an empty spot in the clearing.

“What happened to Roland?” she asked. She saw Bog and her father both look over to the spot where he had been chained. They didn’t know. “Oh, no,” she said. “He does not get away with this. This is all his fault!” She took to the air in her anger. Her wings were still wet and heavy, but she was able to beat them. The setting moon lit them up from behind and even in her wrath, she saw Bog break into a smitten grin.

“None of this would’ve happened if it wasn’t for him,” she added. Her father’s face hardened as it sank in, the iron, the coup, all this blood and horror, all of it, because of one fairy’s power-lust.

“We’ll find him,” he said.

“If there’s anything left to find,” Bog said. His grin turned nasty. “Alone in the Dark Forest at night with Old King Nox out hunting? The old monster may do our work for us.”

“Is it safe to even search for him now?” Marianne was surprised to hear her father ask. Bog might’ve been taken aback too. Maybe it was kingly manners in another king’s kingdom. If so, it was mutual. Bog didn’t even sneer.

“If it was someone I cared about, I would say it didn’t matter,” he said. He looked at the waning moon, slipping down behind the trees. “But for him? Let him be lost and afraid for awhile. He may draw Nox away from Lady Emily’s trail as well, and I’d honestly rather find her alive than him right now.”

Remembering Emily made Marianne sink back to the ground. Her last view of the other princess had been through the haze of Nox’s blood. There was a sound of concern from the pooka as Drear finally sank all the way to the ground. He was coughing and breathing hard.

“It’s all right,” Griselda was saying, shooing them back. “Give him room. Let him rest.”

“She saved him,” Marianne remembered watching. “Nox would’ve killed him.”

“You would’ve done the same in her place,” her father said, smiling. Her eyes went to Bog.

“Yeah,” she agreed, a little sheepishly. “So what do we do? How do we help her?”

“I have goblins out there already,” Bog said. “They’re sending messages back and forth. A few of them have seen her and given her cover.”

“Ok,” Marianne said. “But then what? I mean, even if she gets away tonight, what’s to stop him from coming back again? Night after night, until he kills them all?”

“That’s why he’s called the Nightmare King,” Bog said. “You might make it to daylight, but the night always falls again. And again.”

“There has to be a way to stop him,” Marianne insisted.

“We attacked him with combined forces and cut his throat,” Bog reminded her. “It didn’t even slow him down.”

“All right,” Marianne was pacing back and forth, wringing her hands and thinking out loud. “Ok. The shape-shifting. It heals him too fast for him to be beaten in combat. He’s too big and powerful. Ok. Well, the light then? I saw Drear dodging sunbeams on the way here. Can we trap him in daylight somehow? Let the sun, I don’t know-“ She gestured wildly. “Burn him up?”

“It’s too bright for us to see in,” a nearby pooka offered. “But it doesn’t hurt us. We have to squint and slow down in it.” Marianne was a little chagrined to be caught plotting the downfall of a neighboring king, but the pooka didn’t look upset.

“I’m guessing you’ve already tried everything you can think of,” she said. The pooka nodded, ears drooping.

“Everything,” it said softly.

“Ok,” Marianne said, pacing again. “If he can’t be killed, can he be contained? Can we trap him somewhere? Maybe if he was fed and talked to everyday, he might remember-“

“Where?” her father asked. “We would need to build a whole other mound around him. He’s every bit as dangerous as iron. If he’s immune to it maybe we could lock him up with it, but how to get him there…?”

“Wait!” Marianne said, lighting up. “Wait!” She turned to Bog. “That thing, that cage you kept the Sugar Plum Fairy in?” She saw comprehension break over his face. “You still have it, right? Wouldn’t that hold him?”

“It might,” he said slowly. “But I don’t think it was ever recovered from the wreckage of the old castle. It’s still in the dungeon.”

“Then that’s where we look for it!” Marianne said. She was flying again, an eager fire in her eyes, and it was such a change from seeing her fade from the iron that he couldn’t help but grin back.


	17. Chapter 17

“One thing,” Marianne’s father said, making them both look at him. “The Nightmare King is still out there. You can’t just fly over there and hope he’s too busy killing Lady Emily to notice.”

That was shockingly blunt coming from her father and Marianne dropped back to the ground, just to be safe.

“We can’t just _wait_!” she started to protest, even though she had a sinking feeling that’s exactly what they were going to have to do.

“The old castle had siege tunnels,” Bog said. “To bring supplies in and out unnoticed. If they survived, they can at least get us close.”

Marianne was about to cheer when her father spoke up again.

“If they haven’t survived,” he said. “Will you be trapped halfway?” He knew Marianne well enough to raise an eyebrow at her and she bit back the groan he had known was coming. He was right. There was too much at stake to just tear around. It had been bad enough when there was just iron involved. Now there was iron, Roland, and Nox. Who would’ve thought Roland would ever be the least troublesome part of any ordeal? She had nearly died, even though that was hard to remember with Nox’s blood still soaking into her. She ran fingers through her hair and they came away wet with it.

“And there’s that,” her father said, eyes wary over the black slickness. “The fact that you’re alive is all that’s keeping me from going completely berserk. If you had died, I would gladly burn this place down to find Roland and -“

“Dad, I’m fine-“ she began again. Bog was torn between agreement, indignance that it was his Forest being threatened, and approval at Roland being threatened. 

“-nail those green eyes to whatever tree was still standing,” the Fairy King went on, raising his voice to talk over her. Shushing noises came from all the pooka and goblins around. Marianne blinked, more taken aback than she wanted to let on. “The other fact is that you are only this strong again because of what you have absorbed from a monster.”

Marianne was about to argue and was looking to Bog for help, but she could see that he was concerned too. He looked unsure, checking the Forest around them for any sign of Nox and then at her. Was he really going to defer to another king in his own territory? Did it have something to do with her? It had better not be another kingly secret.

“We have to do _some_ thing,” she said, trying to convince them both. 

“Coming through!” whispered a new voice and then a team of goblins came through the briars carrying one of the bat guards. Marianne didn’t know if it was Ebon or Somber, or even just a random pooka, but whichever it was, he was missing a gigantic bite mark out of one wing. He didn’t look to be conscious. The other pooka hissed and moaned in sympathy, crowding close to help. Griselda took over again, shooing them all back.

“I know how to fix that,” one of the fairy guard said. Everyone looked at him and he shifted nervously, but then showed his own wings. There was a patch that was a different color, standing out green against the black and white. 

“Snake-leaves!” he said. “You patch the wing with it and it grows into the hole and becomes new skin.” He turned to give them a better look. The veins of the leaf had matched up with the ones in the wings. “The elves did it. They knew about it.”

Griselda and the Fairy King looked at each other. Bog and Marianne looked at him too. He turned it over and over and visibly gave in.

“All right,” he said. He pointed at the patched fairy. “No flying, but hurry. Stay low, stay safe. Go get a healer elf and some of those leaves and bring them back.” 

The guard nodded and Bog appointed two goblins to lead him the fastest way through the forest. The three left quickly and Dagda heaved a sigh.

“Dad-“ Marianne began and he held up a hand. 

“All I’m asking is that you make sure the way is clear before you go,” he said. “If his blood has that much life in it, it may draw him back to you. Send a team in first to be sure that you won’t be trapped underground if he shows up.” She slumped and looked back at Bog. His shoulders sagged a little too, but he was nodding. 

“All right,” he said, just like Dagda had when he gave in. “All right. I’ll send one of the digging crews in.” He swung the staff and sent the nearest goblins scrambling to find Crew 16, whatever that was. 

Marianne took a breath and swiped at the sticky blood on the back of her neck again. She understood why she had to wait. It made sense. She just hated it. Her father gave her a sympathetic look, but squared his shoulders. He had to be relieved that they were listening to him, she thought, a little bitterly, but she knew better. She was glad he was there to help and not trying to drag her home. She really was. 

She wondered how long she had to soak up Nox’s blood before she could wash it off. Then again, if she got her hands on Roland, she wanted him to see her bloodied and ready to tear his head off. He had cowered before Nox, but he hadn’t seen anything yet. To distract herself, she walked over to where Griselda was wrapping bandages around Drear’s hurt ear. She tied it back into position. Hopefully, it would heal that way. She smiled at Marianne as she came near. 

“I remember when he was a boy,” Griselda said, giving the wrappings a little pat. “This was before his father went off the deep end. Nox would come in and council with Bog’s father and the boys would be left to themselves. They would show off and try to one-up each other. Drear would walk around on the ceiling like it was normal and it drove Bog crazy to try to talk to him when he was upside down.”

“That’s adorable,” Marianne said, delighted at the thought of young, annoyed Bog.

“Oh it was,” Griselda said. “Bog got back at him by shouting everything. These ears?” She gave the uninjured one a poke and it twitched. “Don’t like loud noises. It gave him a headache, which hanging upside down didn’t help, so they both ended up on the floor. Biting, usually, but that’s how boys are.”

“Then what happened?”

“Nox lost his mind,” Griselda said. Her wide grin slid into a grimace. “It took a long time, but we saw less and less of him and then not at all. But the stories started up again, about goblins going missing, homes smashed, children taken. We remembered what it had been like before the truce between the Forest and Beyond, and knew what it was. We thought it would be war, but then the pooka came to let us know that he had disappeared and had we seen him? He had fallen to some madness, they said, and they were afraid of what he might do.”

“I think I felt some of that,” Marianne said. She flexed her fingers to see the blood in the lines of her knuckles. “Just… just an emptiness that ate away everything else.”

“Oh, he ate away everything all right,” Griselda said. “Drear took over as best he could. The bats ran patrols to keep an eye out for him. Little by little, he faded back out again until he was just a boogie man.” She looked Marianne up and down. “Don’t let that happen to you, sweetie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attempted a drawing of Emily: http://hermitchild.deviantart.com/art/Emily-589749975
> 
> Also, the snake leaves thing came from a fairy tale where a snake is chopped up and its mate brings the leaves, which heal it back together and bring it back to life.


	18. Chapter 18

Time passed slowly when you had to wait. Marianne had paced with Bog and alone, making Plan Bs and Cs. She ended up passing Drear a few times. Whatever they had given him had put him under and he wasn’t nearly as formidable sprawled out in a big heap. Her first impression had been right. He was much bigger when he wasn’t hunched over. Without the glower, he looked younger. She saw Bog glancing over a few times too. It was sad that they hadn’t been able to be better friends, she thought. With both their fathers gone, they could’ve helped each other more. 

“How long?” she asked and Bog looked blank. “Since you two played together?”

“Augh,” he said, shrugging. “We were children then. We only saw each other every few years when the treaties were reviewed. It’s not like we were ‘playmates’ or anything.” Marianne started to speak but he knew what she was going to say. “Our fathers weren’t friends either. They would’ve used any excuse to take offense at each other. It was our mothers that got along. They were the ones that wanted us to play close by to remind the kings that it wasn’t just their egos at stake. You’ll have to talk to her.”

Marianne mulled that over for a little bit. A goblin runner reported back in after awhile. It was a small goblin, dirty from head to toe and wearing a walnut-shell helmet. There was a cave-in in the siege tunnel, she said. They were digging around it, but securing the tunnel as they went was taking some time. Bog nodded and told her to let him know as soon as they were through. She saluted and was off again. 

Marianne peeked at her dad to get an I-told-you-so if he had one ready, but was surprised to see him nodding at something Griselda was telling him. They were both by the injured guard. Griselda was helping a pooka dab more of the chewed poultice along the edges of the torn wing to keep it from bleeding. They were about to splint some of the wing-fingers that had been torn with the wing. Marianne headed over to see if she could help and to see what they were talking about.

“-can only shapechange when they’re young anymore,” Griselda was saying. Marianne hurried to hear the rest. 

"That’s remarkable,” Dagda said. The other pooka nodded too. 

“We usually settle into a shape that suits us by the time we’re grown,” he said. His voice was moth-soft and friendly. He had hands, Marianne noticed, which was probably why he was in charge of tending the others’ wounds. 

“Really?” Marianne had to ask. Some part of her queenly diplomacy training was already cringing at what she was about to say. “You can change into anything? And you stick to bats because-?“

“We live in a cave,” the pooka said, smiling at her. He didn’t look offended, but there was the beginning of a teasing glint. “If we lived in a field, we might look more like bugs.” 

There was that. Marianne couldn’t fault that logic without being even more rude. 

“What about Emily?” she asked. “She isn’t a pooka. Where is she from?”

“The Darkness Beyond has passages in and out,” the pooka said. “The Lady Emily is from the lake. The cenote. It’s underground except for a few openings in the ceiling for the moon to get it. Some of our caves connect to it. Her people live there.”

“So you have an alliance with them now?” Marianne asked. “Bog told me there was a territorial dispute.”

“In a manner of speaking,” the pooka said. “If it’s an alliance, it’s an uneasy one.” His ears suddenly shot up and every pooka and bat in the briar patch did the same. They all looked to the west, tense and listening. Marianne and Dagda froze with them, then watched as they all relaxed again.

“Yours,” the pooka said and went back to tending the wing.

“What?” Marianne asked, but it was only another moment before an elf carrying a cluster of leaves was ushered in by a fairy guard and some goblins. Marianne knew her. It was Old Penny, the healer and unofficial auntie to the whole elf village. Elves and fairies alike went to her for everything from allergies to snakebites. Her bright eyes were uncertain over the goblins and pooka, but she clutched her leaves tighter and came over to help. Marianne wondered what they had told her to get her out of bed and into the Dark Forest in the middle of the night. 

“Oh,” Penny said, squinting at the poultice. “Comfrey?”

“We call it knitbone,” Griselda said airily. “It does the trick.”

“Well, yes,” Penny said. “That will make this easier.” She knelt down and then begin placing the leaves out over the tattered wing, seeing where they could be pieced together. When the little box of tiny needles came out, Marianne decided to inch back away and watch something else. More pooka gathered around to watch in her place. Maybe they had to leave sewing to the ones of them that got out of puberty with hands. She walked back over to Drear. Maybe being a prince meant he had servants to do things that required fingers and he could concentrate on flying and leading the hunt and walking on ceilings or whatever. 

Enough time had passed that Bog was expecting news from Team 16. He was checking with his scouts, getting reports from the mushrooms. Something had zipped by in the mist, the mushrooms said, but they hadn’t gotten a very good look at it. No one had seen Nox in awhile, so he was either on the move where they couldn’t see him or busy elsewhere. Neither option was a good one. Marianne checked the moon and it was setting low behind the trees now. She looked the opposite direction and saw a bright haze on that horizon. Morning was coming. Finally. 

That would change everything, she hoped. With the sun up, Nox would be as good as blind. They wouldn’t need to wait for a tunnel. They could go fly again. It would be safe to go find wherever Roland had hidden away and shave the rotten traitor bald. Would it be a terrible thing if he and all his squirming little hitchhikers had been gobbled up in the night? It wouldn’t be as personally satisfying, but it might not necessarily be a tragedy either, right?

“You know you’re saying that out loud?” Bog said.

“It deserves to be said,” she said, covering sheepishness with defiance. “I deserve to say it!” His chuckle was soft, but there. He held a hand out and she took it and turned into his side. She was about to ask him if the runner with the walnut shell was back yet, when the briars were full of perked ears again. Her hand dropped to her sword before she heard the pooka over by Penny and Griselda whisper “Ours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comfrey really is called knitbone, which delights me.


	19. Chapter 19

There was a long silent moment as the rising sun slowly lit the edges of the briars. Marianne saw it play along the hilt of her sword as they waited. Then, with the softest of rustles, Emily staggered back into the cover of the briars. Marianne’s hand dropped away from the sword immediately. The other princess looked like she was one more scare away from a complete collapse. She was crisscrossed with scratches from running through the underbrush and was limping with exhaustion. It was possible to heave and gulp for breath without making a sound and Emily was doing it. She and Marianne had a half second of eye contact and then the pooka swarmed her. 

They were thrilled and relieved to see her alive, but she cringed from all the reaching claws and who could blame her for that? She had been dodging grasping claws and snapping teeth all night. Her draping cloaks were gone, probably torn off on the same burrs and brambles that had scratched her. The tails of her shift were tattered too. She was soaking wet and shaking. Marianne could see traces of blood around her fingers and toenails, signs of climbing and scrambling as quickly as possible. 

Bog ordered the goblins to clear the way for her, gesturing with his staff. King Dagda was there too, looking concerned. He would’ve swooped in to take her arm and help if he had been able to get close to her either, Marianne thought. The pooka were fussing and shooing her along. Marianne wished they would stop or at least let Emily say something. They were praising her for being so quick and clever, but Marianne noticed that not one of them told the princess that it was all right or that she was safe now. 

Even as she stumbled on, they were plucking at her, flicking away splinters and straightening her disheveled hair. She had a braid, Marianne noticed, with a tuft at the end to match her tail. She also had a crown, small and black, probably made from some mineral in the caves. It was braided into her hair, which was probably why she hadn’t lost it jumping around. 

“-Somber made it back,” some of the pooka were saying, and relief brightened Emily’s face. It crumpled back again at the sight of Drear though. They were taking her to him. He was still in his heap, held together with Griselda’s bandages, the biting bug heads, and patched over with the knitbone poultice. Emily let out a little sob and did her best to hurry over to him. The pooka tried to help again. It was amazing that they didn’t get in each other’s way more. Flying in a swarm must’ve given them excellent spatial awareness because they slipped in and out of each other’s path like a breeze.

Emily sank down to carefully touch Drear’s bloodied face. She looked so sorrowful even in her own fear and exhaustion that Marianne wondered how Drear could be as aloof as he was. Emily didn’t act like someone in an arranged political marriage. She looked sincerely heartsick over her husband’s injuries. Marianne felt a stab of indignance on Emily’s behalf. She had been in mortal danger for her life all night long to save him and probably hadn’t shed a single tear for herself, but now she was falling apart over his injuries. If Emily had been a fairy, she would probably be singing over him. 

“Here,” the pooka were saying. Their voices were all blending together. “Rest here. You belong here. Right here. Right next to him. Closest to his heart. Here.” They carefully lifted one of Drear’s wings and all but picked Emily up and stretched her out next to him. They lowered the wing back over her like a blanket, and Marianne saw her shiver against him. Did he remind her too much of Nox sometimes? She clearly adored him for whatever reason, but it had to be emotional whiplash to flee in horror from one bat monster to cuddle with another one.

That wasn’t fair, Marianne knew. The pooka were no more monstrous than the goblins, really. They were just not as familiar. It was probably cruel to compare Drear to his father. He couldn’t be that bad if Emily was so devoted to him. Even if it seemed jarringly one-sided. Even if it reminded her a little too much of-

And then her thoughts skittered as something white-hot and wrathful blossomed behind her eyes. Her hand reached out and she was distantly glad that there wasn’t a sword in it. She snagged a passing pooka who blinked at her in the steadily brightening morning light.

“Question,” she said. Her voice was strangely calm. “Do pooka use love potions?”


	20. Chapter 20

The pooka blinked even more at the question, twitching his ears as he considered. 

“That wouldn’t work,” he said. His voice was soft as velvet. It was a strange contrast with the needle teeth. “The Queen tried to reach him with love and died for it. He devoured her entirely.”

Marianne was torn between sputtering that she had no intention of _using_ one of the cursed potions and gaping at the thought that Nox had killed his own wife. 

“She knew,” the pooka said sadly. “Love isn’t the same as hope. She knew he would kill her, but she intended to spare the rest of us. She ate every poison thing she could find before she went to him. She knew.”

“And…” Marianne’s wrath was derailed. “He just-“

“We prayed that we hadn’t lost her in vain,” the pooka said. “That the poison would work. He disappeared for a long time and we dared hope. He was wasted and weak when he came back, but he still came back. And it wasn’t long before he was as dangerous as ever.”

Marianne let go of him and backed off a step to get her head around that. He politely waited a moment to see if she had anything else to say, and then went back to his business when she didn’t. Her mind was whirling. A King fallen so far and so deep that he would destroy his own love? A Queen brave enough to swallow poison to take him down with her. Was that when Drear had taken the throne? She didn’t want to imagine what that must have felt like. 

A shadow fell over her and she looked up quickly. Bog had swooped down to hover over her and she was glad to look up at him. The sun was completely risen now and she hoped he had word from Crew16. 

“Let’s get you washed up,” he said instead. He held out his hand and she took it without question. Nox’s blood was still damp behind her ears and under her tunic, in the corners of her eyes and in between her wings. She was only too glad to get it off and if Bog was taking the time, it meant the team hadn’t reported in yet. Flying for a distance was a little more difficult than she expected with a layer of the dried blood on her wings, but Bog wasn’t in a hurry. He led the way into the forest, under the ferns and spreading tree roots. 

Even with sun steadily rising, the place he brought her to was cool and dark. A trickle from an underground spring had found its way here around the rocks. It gathered into a series of small pools. It smelled like moss and mud and deep, wet places. The sunbeams that made it through the leaves and shadows were thin and weak, but Bog set his staff into some rocks. One of the beams caught on the amber. It lit up with a warm glow. Marianne held up her ring to let it pick up some of the light. Bog’s hands closed around it. He was smiling at her and pulled her into the air over the pool. She could hear his breathing, deep and slow, and felt the rasp of his chin against her neck. One of his arms curled around her waist to pull her in close to him. She was pretty sure she knew what was coming and folded her wings to let him hold her up. 

“It’s cold,” he warned. His toes swung close enough to the surface that the water stirred. 

“You aren’t,” she said, smiling up at him. He chuckled and tucked his wings and they dropped into the water. It wasn’t just cold, it was blindingly, screamingly icy. Marianne gasped and probably would’ve screamed if she wasn’t being so kissed. His mouth covered hers. She felt the drag of his teeth over her lip and then the warmth of his tongue. Her stomach fluttered and her neck arched into it. It had been his kiss that had driven the chill of iron from her veins. A little spring water didn’t stand a chance. 

Bog’s hands were everywhere. She could feel them kneading the blood out of her hair and stroking it off her wings. The lines of his armor weren’t that different from the way her dress was put together. She ran her fingers over the score marks and sharp edges and felt the tips of his nails following the silkier seams of her clothes. They fell away so easily that he might’ve cut them, but all that really mattered was that they weren’t in the way anymore. His hands wrapped around her, still rubbing and stroking. The petals in her clothes had channeled the black blood over her skin and left outlines all over her. He didn’t move on until they had been wiped away. It felt like he was trying to kiss the rest out of her like he had the iron. 

The pads of his thumbs stroked over her antennae nubs and she shuddered. It was more than the cold. All her softness was going hard and prickly, which just made her more of a match for him. Her hair and wings were half floating in the water. They felt weightless and weird drifting around her. She was so aware of them it was ticklish and she wondered what it would take to make her antennae unfold again. Another glide of fingertip over the nubs and then the warmth of a kiss made her shiver. It was so far removed from the black veil of blood that every sense felt heightened. 

She could see Bog’s wings erect and quivering over his shoulders. She could feel the vibration all the way through him. They would dry out much faster than hers. She didn’t feel the cold anymore. The water felt silken now. She trailed her limbs through it just to feel it roll over her skin. She hooked her legs around him and felt him rumble. He was tall enough to stand in the pool and hold her up, and he broke the kiss to lift her a little higher. She felt suddenly heavier as she was pulled out of the water, her wet hair and wings clinging to her. 

Cold rock was pressed against her back. It hadn’t soaked up enough sun to be warm yet, but Marianne didn’t care. She spread her wings out against it anyway. It was much warmer than the water. 

“I didn’t tell you,” Bog gasped into her neck. She managed a questioning sound as he slid his hands down to her hips. She lifted into them easily. “That the worst part of the iron was thinking it could’ve been you.” His eyes blazed and his nails grated dangerously on the rock. “And then it was.”

“You saved me,” she told him. It didn’t even bother her to admit it. She almost laughed. Who would have ever thought she would be ok with being rescued? “I’m still here.” She wrapped her arms around him and hooked her heels behind his back to press tightly against him. “Still yours,” she added. How many times had she refused to be called anyone’s anything? Bog knew that and knew what it meant that she would say it to him. He bit her shoulder to block a moan and she did laugh then, even if it was mostly a breathless squeak. 

There were more bites that gentled into kisses again. She tilted her head back for it, arched her spine, and spread wide open. He had to pull away a little just to have room to move, but then it was easy. He eased into her, every ridge and line making her toes curl. Marianne stretched and gasped and let her purrs sink into growls when he began to move. She dug her fingers into the segments of his scalp and down his back to hear him snarl. His hands were still roaming, still making sure all of her was there. The sounds he was making started out as her name before they trailed off. 

Marianne felt her wings shaking against the rock. Bog’s were practically buzzing, vibrating the water around them into ripples. He was doing the thing again where he became everything. There was nothing to feel or see or hear in the world but him, so she soaked it all up. She got to watch his desperation fade into a bone-deep relief and then build back up into something fiercer. He bit hard enough to make her yelp and then pulled back to let his teeth snap in the air. Marianne saw her own hand reach up to press against his face and he grabbed it to hold it there. 

They made eye contact for a heartbeat and then it was his neck and back arching. His grip on her hand tightened and his teeth unclenched to gasp out her name one more time as he shook. Marianne bit her own lip at the sight and tasted blood from where he had bitten her before. That was enough to send her over after him.

The sun was beaming down on them when she got her breath back. Her wings had calmed down too. They fanned softly. She would have to wait for them to dry completely before they went to the ruins. She would be impatient about that if she was wasn’t so replete. And it wasn’t like Bog was going anywhere without her, she thought with a contented smirk. She could really only see his chin from the angle she was laying at, but she could feel the sweet, raspy weight of him curled around her and his hot breath in her ear. 

She ran a hand over the ridges and points across his back. His breathing hitched a little but she didn’t think he was awake. That was fine. This was good. Marianne thought she could even sleep a little. She had been awake for a long time now. She didn’t even remember exactly how long anymore. Had it really only been one night since they had left the Fields for the Darkness Beyond? It probably wasn’t a good idea to drop her guard when they still didn’t know where Nox was, but if Bog felt safe here, it likely was. Who knew the Dark Forest better than him? If he thought this place was any danger, he wouldn’t have brought her here. She was sure of it. 

Certainty was amazing, she thought as her eyes closed. To be sure of him, sure of her safety, sure of his love, to not have to doubt anything or second guess or look for a motive was almost as sweet as the kisses. They couldn’t really snuggle much closer, but she gave it a try, squirming just a bit to press into the curl of his body. They folded in on each other like flower petals and new leaves and Marianne decided that it didn’t matter if the light came from the sun or the amber, she felt lit up inside and out.


	21. Chapter 21

Marianne’s clothes weren’t as clean or dry as she would’ve liked but someone, probably Thang, had tried to get them clean while she had been with Bog and then snuck them back to where she had left them. It looked like they had been given a hasty scrub and then wrung out. There were still lines of black blood in the layers and a very cool dampness in the seams, but Marianne found she didn’t mind. It felt good to be mostly clean in the mottled mix of sun and shadow in the Dark Forest during daytime. 

Maybe it was the bliss of the afterglow, or just relief after the night of fear that had her looking around so happily, but the Dark Forest really was beautiful. It had surprised her the first time, now it just made sense. Of course it was. It was dark and dangerous and crawling with all kinds of things that had given her younger self nightmares, but it was exactly what she hadn’t known she wanted. Walking beside her, as dark and dangerous and perfect as the Forest he ruled, Bog reached over to take her arm as they walked back into the briars. They strode in together and the gathering parted for them. 

Emily and Drear were both passed out now, Marianne saw. Hopefully they would both wake up strong enough to do this again when the sun went down. Someone had made a hammock for Old Penny over near Somber. She was asleep too, still clutching a snake-leaf and being rocked carefully by Snuff. The pooka were dozing here and there in the briars, some hanging upside down, some in snuggly piles around the ground. Camouflage, she thought, so Drear would blend in better. 

The sun was high and warm. It was probably the safest time to make a run for the old castle. The goblins knew all the ways through the underbrush and were safer out of sight and could move in a blink when they wanted to. The fairies wanted to fly if it was safe to. They didn’t know the Dark Forest as well and the shortest distance would have to be a straight line. It made sense to go all at once, they reasoned. If one group was attacked, the other would have that much more chance to get there and find the snare. 

What if it wasn’t there, though? What then? Could they make another one? Not until the full moon apparently. They would have to hide and hold out until then or the original snare was found. Why wouldn’t it be there? The Sugar Plum Fairy wasn’t likely to want it or take it with her, wherever she had gone. Unless she wanted to be sure it couldn’t be used on her again. The Imp could have taken it. If the Imp was able to catch her again, it could force her to make the potion in exchange for her freedom.

They were still talking about it when a goblin named Welt appeared at Bog’s elbow. He smelled like black earth and leaf mold and shifted a little nervously when all eyes turned on him. 

“Sire?” he said. “There’s good news and bad.”

He was holding a little walnut shell helmet with a bite taken out of it. Marianne’s stomach went icy. Crew 16 was dead then. Eaten. They had never made it through the tunnel. Something had either followed them in or been waiting for them inside. Was there no end to this? She saw the same horror she felt on the faces of the other fairies. The goblins looked more angry than scared and she tried to cling to that. They had to be tired of things like this happening to their people and their homes. She willed the cold grip around her guts to turn to wrath. It was easier to bear, to act on. 

Then she looked at the pooka. They had barely flinched. They were used to this. They were quiet and still, a respectful hush fallen as they looked at the ruined helmet and no doubt thought of all the other pieces they had found throughout Nox’s madness, when there were pieces left to find. Marianne made herself breathe, forced the air out and then pulled it in again. 

“Dare I ask the good news?” Bog was angry as well. His accent and his fangs tightened around what should have been a polite question. His claws tapped as he loosened his grip on his staff and readjusted. Marianne recognized that as build up to when he cracked his neck and exploded and she tensed to join him.

Welt knew the signs too. He tucked the helmet under his arm and when he looked up his damp eyes had a flame of anger. 

“We found a fairy trail on the old hunting road,” he said, licking his upper lip. “There aren’t enough flies left to carry him, and he’s too heavy to fly on his own.” Welt’s voice dropped a little lower, maybe out of deference to the other fairies nearby or maybe just to sound more threatening. “He has to _walk_ on his own now. We can track him easy and catch him easier.” 

They were talking about Roland, Marianne realized. She wasn’t sure what her face was doing, but it felt scrunched as tight as her fists. She could hear herself breathing through her nose. 

“Leave him to me,” King Dagda said. “If your trackers will guide us to him, we will bring him back here to be dealt with.”

“Deal with him where you find him!” Bog snarled. “There’s no need to bring anything back!”

“This is high treason,” Dagda said, just as fiercely. “An attempt on the life of the future queen, an assassination attempt on an ally, conspiracy to commit treason with a third party-“

“As opposed to the regular treason of trying to love potion the future queen, attacking an ally’s castle, and using a princess as a hostage? Are you not even going to mention what he did before this?” Marianne hissed. She was too angry to squirm at the future queen part. Dagda met her eyes.

“It’s called high treason because there’s nothing worse,” he said. “And it is subject to the most severe punishments.”

“Such,” Bog said, still looming. “As?”

“Loss of his wings,” Dagda said. A shocked murmur went through the fairies. Even Marianne blinked. The pookas looked impressed. “The traitor’s mark hasn’t been dealt since before the iron fell, but build me a fire hot enough and I’ll brand him myself.”

“Then what?” Bog asked. “He didn’t need wings to do all this. He won’t need them to continue to be a problem.”

“A fairy without wings and bearing the mark is driven out everywhere,” Dagda said. “They usually don’t last long. Especially not in a place like this.” He gestured with one hand at the Dark Forest. All the goblins listening went into predatory speculation about that, Bog included. Marianne made herself take a breath again. 

Of all the vengeance she had wanted to pour on Roland, she had never thought of stripping him of his wings. Fairies could live without them. Accidents had happened. Terrible ones. The elves did their best to help a grounded fairy. They were never the same, but life went on. It was better than being put to death, which was clearly more to Bog’s liking. Maybe. 

She had only heard of the traitor’s mark in stories that were usually hushed as soon as she was noticed listening. It was a dark spot in history, only to be used when something too horrible for any other punishment was done. It was so frustrating! She had only wanted Roland’s absence after he had betrayed her personally, but he hadn’t been able to stop ruining everything. She would’ve been happy just to have been left alone. She would’ve despised and mistrusted him forever, but she wouldn’t have wanted him dead or maimed. 

But. He wasn’t just a cheat and a liar. He had nearly killed her. He had done it with a smile on his face. He had nearly killed Brutus. He might have been trying to kill Bog. He had held a sword to Dawn’s throat. He had dropped a castle on Dawn and Bog. He would’ve been delighted to sit on her father’s throne and have her in a love-potioned stupor over him while he did whatever and whoever he pleased. Marianne’s stomach twisted again at the thought. 

The only thing that made that thought bearable was knowing how easily Bog would’ve destroyed whatever army Roland could march into the Dark Forest. Dawn had snapped out of the potion’s influence when she thought Bog was dead and Sunny had held her. Maybe Marianne would be released too when Bog struck Roland down and loomed over her. She could still end up marrying him, to broker peace. No matter what Roland did, she and Bog would still end up together somehow. 

“Roland is not ruining another wedding,” Marianne said aloud. Both kings looked at her. “If fairy law can pass the sentence, goblin law can execute it. I can accept this.” Her father nodded grimly and Bog expression might’ve gone a little hungrier at the word ‘execute’ but he nodded too. 

“My king’s guard with me,” Dagda said. “The rest of you, to the ruins.”

“Welt, take your best. Show them the way,” said Bog. His wings buzzed. “That snare has to be found before the sun goes down.”


	22. Chapter 22

Everyone was on high alert heading through the Dark Forest.The fairies flew low over the underbrush, following the rush of movement from the goblins below. It was amazing how well the goblins blended in with the leaves and shadows. The swish of the plants was sometimes all that gave them away. Sunbeams filtered through the leaves here and there, but the Dark Forest was still full of shadows. Nox could be anywhere. Who knew if the old monster even needed to sleep? He might be on the hunt constantly. He had eaten plenty last night, but how long would it satisfy him? How did the pooka live this way? 

Marianne felt another pang when the forest floor fell away to the edge of a gully. At the bottom was the ruin and rubble that had been Bog’s home. The goblins hopped over the edge and began climbing down. The fairies hung back, looking to Marianne for how to proceed. She saw uncertainty flicker over their faces. One of theirs had done this. Bog still had her hand, so when he flew down into the gully, she went with him. The others followed her. 

The goblins got started as soon as they got there. They knew the layout the best and skipped anyplace they knew wasn’t close to where the dungeon had been. They started heaving and moving rubble. The fairy guard hesitated a little, but Marianne grabbed a piece of bone and shoved it over to clear the way. They quickly did their best to help after that. Everyone kept their voices soft and low, maybe out of deference, maybe out of fear of Nox. They all wanted the snare found as quickly as possible. 

Most of the debris was rough bark and dead wood with the occasional bone mixed in. Every now and then Marianne would find something carved or decorated that reminded her that this had been their _home_. What would it take to destroy the fairy castle, she wondered. It was safe inside a stone, but if giant balls of iron fell out of the sky, one of them might smash it. If all that was left of it was broken stones and withered flower petals, how would it break her heart to sift through it? She uncovered the pieces of a clay bowl that had little imprints of fireflies stamped into the side of it. There were little pieces of green and yellow stones sunk into it to look like their tails. Someone had worked hard to make this and then make it beautiful. Now it was smashed to pieces. 

She glanced over at Bog to see how he was taking it. He was using his staff to lever up a large piece for two of the fanged goblins to set their shoulder against and roll it away. He looked all business, but she knew what an old hand he was at locking emotions away. Then again, anger was the one thing he indulged in. If he was upset, it wouldn’t be a secret. He looked over when he felt her staring. 

“I’ve cost you so much,” she said. She would’ve liked it to be self-deprecating with maybe half a joke under the surface, but it came out soft and wondering. He blinked and then smiled. It was an honest, gentle smile without any teeth in it. She felt it all the way into her lungs.

“Well worth it,” he said and she was able to breathe again. They beamed at each other like simpletons until they realized it, and got back to work. They both went on digging and searching for a short awkward time before he spoke again.

“I once threatened Dawn’s wings,” he said. She raised her eyebrows at him and he looked sheepish. “She was singing.”

“She’s a lovely singer,” Marianne pretended to huff. Bog chuckled and shrugged. 

“I was trying to scare her,” he admitted. 

“Hah!” Marianne scoffed, knowing how exactly how hard it was to intimidate Dawn. Bog grinned too.

“She’s as brave as you are,” he agreed. “In her own way.”

“True,” Marianne said. Then, because she couldn’t help asking. “Would you have done it?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “If she had been at all-“ He gestured vaguely. “Not Dawn, maybe I could’ve. But. She _is_ Dawn and she charmed her way out of it.”

“She does that,” Marianne sighed. Her sister had told her some stories about being captive in the goblin dungeon. There had been lots of threats, which didn’t work on Dawn no matter where they came from, but no real harm. Would the potion work even on someone who would hurt you that badly? It flickered over her mind. She had a vision of Dawn tearing her own wings off to prove how much she loved him and shook her head to dislodge it. That was too awful to imagine. Sweet Dawn, smiling through her tears, holding out her severed wings, whispering _“I did it for you.”_

“Marianne?” she heard Bog say. There was concern there. He would think she was angry at him if she couldn’t pull herself together. Her stomach was clenching and her breath hissed through her gritted teeth. She couldn’t bear to think of Dawn without wings so she drove it out thinking of Roland doing it to her. If she had been as mindlessly infatuated with him as he wanted, would it have mattered if he took her wings? He had done everything else he could to keep her grounded and helpless. Would he have balked at that? Would she have been deep enough under the potion to still love him afterwards? Would it be strong enough to make her give them up willingly? Cut them off herself out of love-dusted insanity?

She could almost hear his purring voice. _You’d give ‘em up for me, wouldn’t you, buttercup? You say you love me as much as I love you, but will you prove it? You don’t need to worry about flying with me around. _I’ll_ be your wings._

“No sense hating a dead enemy,” Bog said. She realized she was staring at her clenched fist. Her knuckles were white and there was a stinging that meant her nails were dug into her palms. He was holding her wrists gently. His voice was low and dangerous.

“We don’t know if he’s dead,” she muttered back. She was relieved that he understood it was Roland she was furious at, and grudgingly more furious that Roland still had this much hold on her. 

“Marianne,” Bog said again and she looked up at him. His smile was completely different now, but she still felt it all the way through her. “If he isn’t, he’ll soon wish he was.”

“Who’s the charmer now?” she asked, making herself take a breath and touching their noses together. His chuckle was dark and delighted that they agreed on this. She took another breath and straightened up to kiss him. 

“Sire!” Stuff shouted and they both grumbled at the interruption. “We found the stairs. They’ll be cleared shortly.”

“Excellent,” Bog said, sounding anything but thrilled. He kissed her again anyway and they both headed over. The goblins were scrambling to dig faster. The fairies were moving the piles farther away to keep the way cleared. Marianne took a few more deep inhales to get herself calm and focused again. She saw the wide stairs, now cracked and covered with dead wood and stone and pieces of cages. She remembered Bog’s dungeon. 

“Does your new place have a dungeon?” she asked. Bog snorted. 

“Of course,” he said. “Are you telling me the fairy kingdom doesn’t? You built a prison for an iron ball, remember?”

“What are we going to do if it’s not there?” Marianne asked instead of answering that. “Can we hold out a whole other month to make a new one?”

“We’ve held out against him for years,” Bog said starting down the stairs as they were cleared ahead of him. “This whole situation has stirred him up, but we’ve dealt with him before.” 

“I see something!” an excited voice called from the pile ahead of them. It had to be Thang. He was small enough to fit under the collapsed beams and Stuff was there, hissing “Be careful!” into the dark.

“What is it?” Bog barked, back to business. 

“Something shiny!” the small goblin called. They heard scuffling and some of the looser debris slid. 

“Careful, Sire,” one of the bigger goblins said. “We don’t have the whole site stabilized.”

“Psh. The whole thing already fell on me once,” Bog said. Marianne grabbed his arm like she could fling him to safety if it came to that. It was the one he had injured. He had been past lucky to have only been hurt that much. 

“I’ve almost got it!” Thang said. They could hear him grunt and grumble as he squirmed his way to it. Stuff was wringing her hands. The pile shifted again. 

“Ok,” the site goblin said, turning to the others. “Non-essentials, get back out of range. Sire, if you would step back-“

“No,” Bog said. “Marianne?”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I have it! I have it!’ Thang cheered. “It’s just, unh, stuck!” 

“Great job,” Stuff said before anyone else could speak. “Just mark where it is and come out and we can dig it out.”

“I can get it!” Thang said. “It’s. Ow. Almost. Rgh. Loose!” 

A creak from one of the beams over them made everyone look up. Some dust filtered down and they all relaxed again. There were more sounds of effort under the pile. Some more debris slid down and the beam creaked again.

“Thang,” Bog said. “That’s enough. Come out.” Stuff was nodding in relief. Marianne let out a breath she had been holding. At least they knew where it was. Then, the beam cracked with a sound like a thunderclap and what was left of the ceiling came down. Marianne gasped and a huge, meaty arm wrapped around her head, knocking her forward. There was a stinging puff of dust and a few people screamed. There was the sound of debris raining down around them. Marianne struggled up again. One of Fang’s kin goblins had thrown himself on her as a shield. She didn’t have to shove him off because he was already scrambling past her to help Bog. 

Bog had blocked the beam with his staff, but the weight of it was driving him to the crumbling floor. Marianne gasped his name and rushed to help too. He was locked in place, trying to keep the beam from smashing down. Bog’s face was in a grimace of exertion and annoyance. The big goblins swarmed him, getting under the beam to take the weight off him. Smaller ones scrambled to cram other rocks and supports under it. Marianne was there too. She ducked under Bog’s arm to put her hands beside him on the staff. Everyone was frantic and grabbing and moving and straining to move. Slowly, the beam was pulled aside and braced. Everyone let go of it and took a careful step away. Nothing moved. Nothing fell. 

The pile of rubble had collapsed too. Standing meekly in the middle of it was Thang. He was covered in dust and looking ashamed at the destruction around him, but he was holding the glowing moon-snare.


	23. Chapter 23

The moon snare seemed to be undamaged by having a castle fall on it. They turned it over a few times and gave it a shake. Its light stayed bright and steady.

“We should probably test it,” Stuff said.

“Here,” Bog said, handing the snare to Marianne. “Try it on me.”

“I don’t know how it works,” Marianne said, trying to hand it back.

“Just swing it at me,” Bog said stepping back to give her room. “I’ll be absorbed into it.”

“Oh no,” she pushed it back into his hands. “You’re the one that has used it before. You know how to get people in and out of it. Try it on me.”  She spread her arms out.  She wasn’t worried about not getting out. She didn’t know how long the Sugar Plum Fairy had been kept inside it, but Bog had been able to release her with a word.

“Ok,” Bog took a breath and gave her an encouraging smile before swinging it over her head like a net. There was a cool stickiness, like walking into a spider web at night, and a flash of white light. When she opened her eyes, she was inside the snare.  It felt cool as moonlight and smelled faintly of primroses.

“All right?” Bog asked and he was huge, peering in at her. She could see every crag and line on his face, but his eyes were as blue as summer skies. This is what Plum saw every time, Marianne thought, but then he was probably snarling and heartbroken, not smiling. I did that, she thought. I made him happy. It sent joy zinging through her to every tip.

“I’m fine!” she called back. She flitted around a little giddily and laughed when he tried not to roll his eyes at her.  She wished he could see how happy and in love he looked. Had Dawn said that to her once? She didn’t remember for sure.

“Ok,” she said, still grinning ear to ear. “Let’s see if this thing can hold me.” She drew her sword and attacked the side of the snare. There was no reason to hold back. If she could damage it, Nox would tear it to shreds. She rained all her fury on the walls, stabbing and slashing. Nothing she did seemed to penetrate it all. When her arms got tired, she dropped the sword and went at it with her bare hands. It looked like gossamer and cobwebs, but she couldn’t even get her fingers to catch on anything.

“Try biting it!” Snuff suggested, hopping excitedly. He had the teeth for it and she didn’t, but she gave it a try, just to please him.  It probably looked ridiculous, but she didn’t care.

“No good,” she admitted finally. She sheathed the sword and sat down in a mock-huff.  “I’m stuck.” Bog chuckled and reached in for her, his massive hand becoming the (still huge) size she was used to. She took it and was towed gently back out into world.

“It _should_ hold him,” Bog said. There was no certainty, of course, but their only other option was to hide until Nox starved to death. Even iron didn’t slow him down.  


They hurried back to their base in the briar patch.  Once there, Bog sent for word of the Fairy King’s mission and a goblin on a dragonfly zipped off to get a report.  Marianne wasn’t really worried about her father. He had the whole guard with him, plus a hunting team of goblins. They were working together, just like she’d always wanted. I did that, she thought again. Well, _we_. She went back to take Bog’s arm.

Old Penny was up again, checking on the injured pooka. The goblins were very interested in the little elf and she was doing a decent job of not looking terrified by all the attention. She was checking the wounds for infections or fevers. Marianne heard her ask Griselda for help finding yarrow and elderflower to make some tea that would help. Griselda sent some goblins to fetch some and had the rest start some fires and go bring water to boil.  That all looked like it was in good hands.

Drear was still surrounded by his pooka. Emily was still tucked under his wing. Next to his heart, they had said. Marianne was going to need a chance to talk to her, just to figure out what was going on between them. She had never had to worry about being married off for an alliance since the Fairy Kingdom had been at peace for so long. She had been free to marry for love.

And I still am, she told herself. Real love, this time. Movement caught her eye and she looked up. One of the pooka was rocking himself back and forth as he hung upside down.

“You ok?” she asked him, remembering to keep her voice soft. Bog stopped to see who she was talking to. The pooka opened eyes like two black drops of ink and smiled to show his fang tips.

“It helps me sleep,” he whispered back, still twisting gently.  It was kind of adorable, even for a winged shadow armed with needle teeth. Maybe Nox had eaten his mother long ago and left him to rock himself to sleep.

“Ok,” she said before that thought could get too sad, and they went on to let him rest.  

“You like them,” Bog said.

“I think so,” Marianne said. She didn’t want to say they were cute. That would be an insult to them and it might offend the goblins that she had been afraid of her whole life because they were so different. She couldn’t find it in her heart to call them ugly anymore. They were just different.  So were the pooka. So were the fairies, probably.  


Nox was a nightmare in every way, yes, but if he had been kindly and soft-spoken would it have mattered? Maybe at first. She’d been afraid of all of this at first. Now she knew better.

“I like you better,” she said, smiling at him.  
   
“Well, I should hope so,” he said loftily, arching his fingers against his chest. She could tell he was sincerely pleased to hear it. The ridges along his cheekbones and ears darkened a little. “I would hate to have to fight _all_ of the Darkness Beyond for you,” he added and it was her turn to blush a little.

They started laying plans for nightfall. Nox probably wouldn’t be fool enough to attack them in plain sight, like last time. He could come from any other direction though. He could blend in with the darkness and flow around them like mist to shapeshift into a blanket of mouths under their feet. He could spread himself out like a net and swallow them all whole before they even knew he was there. He could take the shape of one of them, a pooka probably, but maybe even a goblin or fairy and wait among them until he could strike. 

He was old and evil and ravenously hungry. His own form meant nothing to him. Theirs meant even less. Marianne wondered what he had been like before. Drear would be the one to ask, when he was able. She looked back at him again and wondered if it was possible for her father to ever turn on her like that. She couldn’t imagine what it would take. Had Nox ever been like that? Had it been as unthinkable to Drear that it would happen? She was going to have to talk to him, too.  
   
While they were trying to decide where to keep the snare to use it as quickly as possible when they had to, the goblin on the dragonfly buzzed back into the clearing.

“They’ve tracked the traitor to the marsh,” he reported. Marianne wondered if they weren’t using Roland’s name because they didn’t know it or just because to them, he wasn’t a person anymore. Just a traitor. She kind of liked that. It might be nice to never hear his name or have to say it again. 

“He’s trying to reach the Flylord,” Bog muttered, breaking into her thoughts.

“Will that do any good?” she asked. His head swiveled to look at her. 

“If it had been fairies he took to their deaths against me,” Bog said, grin going evil. “If it was your doorstep he had brought the combined forces of the Dark Forest and Beyond against, how welcome would you make him?”

Marianne scoffed. It was the only noise she was able to make. There wasn’t a word for that much contempt. 

“The warbles won’t sway the Flylord,” Bog went on. “He has a thousand children and countless grandchildren. Every fly in the marshes is related to him somehow. A handful more won’t be worth going to war for.”

“Unless he has some other plan,” Marianne said. She wouldn’t put it past him.

“He still has to outrun the Hunt,” Bog said. “And your father,” he added quickly. She whapped him on the arm, playfully enough to let him know she wasn’t really offended, but she couldn’t let that go. He grinned his usual smile this time, which really left her no choice but to kiss it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rocking thing comes from the video of the orphan bat taken in by the rehab center that rocked himself to sleep when he hung upside down. Too cute not to use.


	24. Chapter 24

Roland knew the Hunt was after him. He had heard the goblin horns sound through the underbrush and he thought he had heard King Dagda’s voice at one point, but he doubted that old fool would venture into the Dark Forest on his own. His former liege could barely fly between his girth and his armor. Roland would’ve been more contemptuous if he was in any better shape at all. The weight of the warbles kept him from being able to fly and he wasn’t used to having to run so far or so fast. His remaining fly guards were tired and wheezing. They had to stop and rest their wings often. Roland tried not to be impatient with them. He didn’t want to admit how much trouble he was having either. 

He didn’t know the Dark Forest. He would’ve been running blind without them. The hum of dragonfly wings had them all flattening under dead leaves and tree roots for cover. The dragonflies sometimes carried goblins, and they would report back to them, and even if they weren’t, feral dragonflies would sometimes pick off the flies and eat them. They hid until the sound faded away, then crept back on the trail. They went on as quickly as they were able. Roland grit his teeth and tried to hurry without complaining. 

He didn’t know what had happened to his sweet love. That gnawed at his heart, but he was sure that she would be fine. She was the daughter of a powerful Lord, after all. She was a creature of such dainty beauty that he was sure even the Bog King wouldn’t harm her. And even if he tried, she could touch iron. It didn’t make her sick or drive her back. Not even Marianne was that tough. 

Roland spared a thought to wonder if Marianne was still alive. The iron had hit her sword, not her skin, so she might still linger. It might just poison her slowly. It was a pity, perhaps, but now that he knew what love was, Roland knew he could never settle for Marianne. He didn’t even want to marry her for the crown anymore. His beloved understood. She had been offered up to the Bog King as a potential bride after all, and that buzzing lichen-rot had been fool enough to reject her. 

Roland was no such fool. He knew how beautiful she was, and how graceful. He had been inspired by how cunning and ambitious she was as well. She saw no reason to waste time with arranged marriages or love potions. She meant to have her own kingdom and she would take it with iron and treachery if needed be. It made his head spin a little. He had gotten by on charm and reputation so long that it hadn’t occurred to him how easy war really was. 

He had been right to want an army. You could do just about anything with enough loyal followers behind you. At the moment, he was down to two. He scowled as they stopped to rest again. The ground was getting wetter. He didn’t know if that was good or not. He knew he wasn’t enjoying the mud and cold water splashing all over him, but it might mean his tracks were harder to follow. It also meant they were getting closer to the Flylord’s borders. The Dark Forest had marshy spots, but when it turned into a real swamp, the flies took over.

The larvae closest to his back stretched and made him twist with pain. He had to stop. He gasped and grimaced, leaning against a rock. The pain passed quickly and the two flies hovered nearer in concern. Roland waved them away.

“Sweet little squirmer,” he crooned. “Gonna be a warrior, just like your mother!” He was tempted again to go back for her, but he had to keep going. He had to get their children to safety. He ran his hands fondly over the other lumps. They were just big enough to start popping up for a peek. He almost wished they were still safe under his skin. He wouldn’t put it past the goblins to eat them, the toothy savages. He knew very well the bats would, and whatever monster they had brought out of the night sky could kill anything. Just remembering it made him feel clammy and his heart beat so hard that the babies squirmed as they sensed his panic. 

“It’s all right,” he whispered to them, forcing himself to relax again. “You’ll be home soon.”

They kept going. Roland made so much noise splashing through the wet ground that they were all sure they would be heard. He was miserable not being able to fly and exhausted from the strain. He didn’t appreciate being spattered with mud either, but his options weren’t any better. He could hide for awhile, but the goblins would track him down eventually. Being dragged back was undignified and they had already shown that they were heartless enough to feed him to their monster. Whatever Marianne’s fate was, they would blame him for it. They might try to use him as leverage against the Flylord. That was no way to impress his future father-in-law. 

If only Chitter was here, he thought. The squirrel was strong enough to carry him and the babies. They could go through the trees instead of slogging along on the ground. He hadn’t seen Chitter since he had left the Fields. He had to stop again to catch his breath. Everything hurt. His legs were shaking and he kept swallowing. He wished the water was clean enough to drink or slick his hair back with. When he could go on again, they did. 

The two flies were getting more and more worried, he could tell, but he didn’t know why until they got to the edge of the water. It spread out in front of him, still and black. Trees and little hillocks of plants rose out of it here and there, but too far between to jump across. There were a few half-submerged logs too, but Roland would still have to reach them. The seriousness of the situation sank in as he stared. He couldn’t fly and he wasn’t sure he could swim either. A ripple from one of the logs caught his eye. He didn’t know what was in there. More monsters could live under the black water. 

He couldn’t cross it. They would have to go around, and that made his stomach sink even deeper. The water spread out as far as he could see. He had no idea what to do. Neither did the flies. They didn’t want to leave him, even to go for help. They whispered and fretted until one of them finally came to a decision and zipped away. Roland bit back a yelp of dismay. The other one took his hand though, and tugged him along to walk around the edge of the bank. They must have a plan, he hoped. They couldn’t stay in one spot. Behind them, the Hunt was still coming.


End file.
